The Road To OZ
by Darthanne
Summary: Xover with Stargate SG1. When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.
1. Chapter One

The Road to OZ (1/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover. 

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.   
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

  
Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

  
Archive: 

  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction. 

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

  
Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, Haraamis, Gina, Meg, Spaceseeker and Anon. 

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

============================================================

Chapter One

"How much longer do you need?" Trowa asked, retrieving his throwing knife from his leg holster. He'd already drawn his gun. 

"I'm nearly finished, " Quatre confirmed. "I have a bad feeling about this." The whole mission had gone too smoothly for his liking, and it had been surprisingly easy to locate the nearest computer terminal and hack into the system. 

Trowa nodded. "It's too quiet," he confirmed. "I'm going to check the corridor again while you finish up in here."

"Be careful." Although Quatre knew the warning was unnecessary he couldn't help but give it anyway. 

"Always." Trowa closed the door behind him quietly as he left the room and Quatre returned to the task at hand. 

He'd only just removed the CD when there was the sound of gunfire from outside the room. "Damn," Quatre muttered, pulling his own weapon. Slipping the CD into the protective case in his shirt pocket, he gripped the gun in both hands and headed for the door. 

Opening the door, he shut it again quickly as several shots were fired in his direction. What little he'd seen had been enough to show him that he and Trowa were in trouble. Although Trowa was holding his own, he appeared to be greatly outnumbered, and only had limited ammunition. 

The radio crackled and Trowa's voice sounded in his ear. "04, I could do with some help out here."

"Affirmative, 03," Quatre replied. "Any chance of covering the door so that I can at least get out of the room?"

There was a moment's silence. "Working on it." Several more shots were fired, followed by silence. "Now!"

Quatre opened the door again, dived through and rolled to come up beside Trowa. "Thanks," he said. 

"No problem." The corners of Trowa's mouth twitched. "I don't think they were expecting the knife, and certainly not from up there." He pointed to the pile of packing crates above their heads. Trowa's experience as a circus acrobat came in useful at the most unexpected moments. 

The two Preventer agents ducked as bullets whizzed over their heads. "It was nice while it lasted," Quatre sighed. He surveyed the area behind them. Going forward was out of the question. "Any idea where that door leads to?" he asked, noticing the steel security door to their left.

"It wasn't on the original plans for the resource satellite," Trowa said. "But we're running out of options."

"If we can get through that door and out of the range of their weapons long enough to call for back up, we might stand a better chance of surviving." Quatre frowned and rubbed at his chest. Something wasn't right; he felt uneasy, a cold finger of dread touched his spine, and he wasn't sure why. 

"Quatre?" 

"I'm okay." Quatre gave Trowa a tiny smile of reassurance and pushed the feeling away. He'd worry about it later; their immediate concern was getting out with the information without being caught. According to Lady Une, her informant had discovered that remnants of OZ and the White Fang organisation were working together on a weapon with the potential to disrupt the peace they'd all worked so hard to create. "If I cover you how long would it take to get that door open?" 

"Two minutes," Trowa replied. The alcove framing the door would provide limited protection from the gunfire as long as their enemies weren't able to get any closer than they were now. 

Moving into position immediately, Quatre fired several shots at the enemy to allow Trowa safe passage. Ducking down behind the crates again, he reloaded his gun and glanced behind him to check on Trowa's progress. 

One minute, fifty. 

Using the crates as cover, Quatre began edging towards the door. The corridor was suspiciously silent but he didn't dare give his position away by taking a visual check. Either they'd gone for backup or were rethinking their strategy. 

Two minutes.

Trowa removed his lock picks, placed one hand on the door handle and tested it. Signalling that he'd been successful, he waited for Quatre to join him in the alcove, and together they entered through the door. 

Hunting for something to barricade the door, Quatre grabbed the only chair in the room and jammed it under the door handle. "It won't hold them for long, but at least it's something," he told Trowa as he surveyed the rest of the room. 

The chair he'd used had been in front of a computer console; it was covered in dust and looked as though it hadn't been used for quite some time. The rest of the room was in the same state. A storeroom of some sort, he figured, or a holding area for discarded or worthless items. 

Unfortunately, the door they'd come through was the only way in or out of the room; it would only be a matter of time before their sanctuary became a trap. They'd backed themselves into a corner.

"Someone's blocking the radio transmission," Trowa's voice was grim as he interrupted Quatre's thoughts. "We're on our own."

Loud noises sounded from outside the room, and the chair shook. "Even if we could get through, they wouldn't get here in time," Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry, I guess my brilliant plan was slightly less than brilliant."

"It was the only option we had left," Trowa reminded him, his eyes scanning the room. He frowned.  
  
"What?" Quatre could feel his curiosity. 

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Trowa pointed to the short chunky podium to their right. It appeared to be made of stone; the red button in the centre was surrounded by two circles of square buttons, upon which appeared to be symbols. "Are those hieroglyphs, or," he looked more closely, "maybe something Arabic?" 

"Not Arabic," Quatre walked over and peered at them. "I don't think they're Egyptian either. Japanese?" He twisted his head to examine the squares from another angle. 

"Whatever it is, it's the only cover we've got," Trowa said, as the pounding on the door grew louder. 

He was right. The computer console was too open, and the rest of the room was full of smaller items stacked on metal shelves…Quatre stopped. What on earth was that? "Trowa, look at this." He indicated the huge stone circle positioned against the back wall. "The symbols are similar to what's on the podium." Could these have something to do with the weapon they'd been sent to investigate?

"Down!" Trowa hissed, pulling Quatre behind the podium. The chair gave a sickening crack, and the door flew open. Whatever the symbols and the artefacts were, they'd have to worry about them later. 

Several men stormed into the room, their guns trained on the podium. One moved to the front of the group, and Trowa gave a sharp intake of breath. "Nichol," he muttered. 

"Mr Barton, Mr Winner. Give yourselves up. You're surrounded," Nichol smirked. "Come now, I thought you Gundam pilots had better manners. It's not polite to turn down our kind offer of hospitality." 

"Hospitality?" Quatre snorted. He had no intention of being captured without a fight. The odds were against them, but that was nothing new. 

Nichol had addressed them by name, rather than their designated code numbers; the identities of the Gundam pilots were classified information, even now, three years after the war. This whole mission had been a very well designed trap, and they had walked straight into it. 

Sighing, Quatre laid a hand on Trowa's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Trowa nodded, and cocked his gun. Hopefully, Une wouldn't send the others in after them. OZ didn't need a complete set of Gundam pilots to play with or execute. 

"Surrender and you have my word that you will come to no harm." There was a pause. "Providing you co-operate." 

"You're going to have to do better than your word," Quatre called out, trying to buy some time while he frantically searched for a way out. 

"Oh like what?" Nichol's voice was silky and polite. 

"Lower your weapons," Quatre answered. "If…" He stopped, frowning as the earlier feeling of unease returned. It felt familiar, yet…Quatre shook his head, trying to clear it. 

"If I tell my men to lower their weapons, what's to stop you firing on us?" Nichol countered. 

"I'll give you my word," Quatre replied, throwing the man's earlier words back at him. 

Nichol laughed. "Throw your guns out, and I'll consider it." 

The two pilots exchanged glances. At least if they surrendered they'd still be alive; capture was always the better option than death. But…

"I don't trust him," Trowa shook his head. He pointed to the door, moved his finger in a circular motion and then looked up towards the ceiling. One minute, he signalled. 

Chewing on his lower lip, Quatre worked out the distance between the podium and the door. Maybe…Trowa would need a distraction. Even if only one of them was free, they still had an advantage. Handing his gun to Trowa, Quatre leaned in to give him a kiss. "Good luck," he whispered. As their lips brushed, Quatre slipped the CD into Trowa's pocket. 

Trowa shook his head again, and Quatre glared at him. Raising his hands, he began to rise to his feet. "I'm coming out, and I'm unarmed," Quatre called. 

Slowly, he walked around to the front of their hiding place, counting down the time in his mind. If he could keep their enemies' attention focused on him, it would allow Trowa to make his move. 

"Sensible move, Mr Winner," Nichol smirked, giving a slight nod of his head. The man to the left of him raised his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger. "But unfortunately we need both of you, and…" 

"Cat! No!" Trowa dived towards Quatre, tackled him, and they both hit the floor. Something whizzed past Quatre to hit Trowa in the shoulder. 

Grabbing Trowa's gun, Quatre fired at the man who'd shot his partner, grasped Trowa around the chest, and dragged him back behind the podium. "Shit! Shit!" he exclaimed. "Bastard! I should have…" 

"Drugged," Trowa's eyes began to glaze over and his grip on Quatre weakened. His eyes searching frantically for the entry wound, Quatre pulled out a tiny tranquilliser dart. "Cat…get…" Trowa's head lolled forward, and he went limp in Quatre's arms. 

"I surrendered!" Quatre yelled at Nichol. 

"I only promised that you wouldn't be harmed." The assuredness in Nichol's voice made Quatre's skin crawl. "And that I'd /consider/ it."

"Go to hell!" Quatre leaned back against the podium, Trowa's head still cradled in his lap. He was supposed to be a damn strategist, why couldn't he think of a way out? It was no small comfort that Trowa was unconscious rather than wounded. Nichol had planned this all along; if Quatre surrendered now, he knew he'd join Trowa in unconsciousness within minutes. Whoever was behind this, they'd thought through the scenario carefully. Their intention was to capture, not kill, but the thought of what they might do to him or Trowa while they were out and unaware wasn't something he wanted to contemplate. 

There had to be a way out. There had to be. 

******

"Daniel, get that gate open!" Jack shouted, taking out two more Jaffa with his zat. 

"I'm working on it," Daniel hit the last co-ordinate on the DHD, ducking to avoid the blast of a staff weapon as the shot went over where his head had just been. 

The Stargate roared to life, the wormhole gushing out like a waterfall out of control before settling back into the familiar blue. "Go, go go!" Jack yelled. "Carter, Teal'c! We're retreating now!" He grabbed the GDO from his belt and activated it. After getting this far, he didn't want to complete his day by going splat against the iris. After all the titanium barrier was there to stop the bad guys, not a team diving for the home plate after a mission had gone sour. 

"On it, Sir." Carter turned, fired her weapon at something past Jack's shoulder and then ran for the gate. She dived through into the wormhole, Daniel on her heels.

"Teal'c!" yelled Jack. "Stop clowning around, we're moving out." 

"I am ready to depart, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, firing his own staff weapon at the Jaffa heading towards him. The Jaffa hit the dirt, and Teal'c and Jack ran for the gate. 

******

"Talk about…" Jack's voice trailed off he exited the wormhole and took in his surroundings. Instead of the Gateroom at the SGC, they were in what appeared to be a storeroom of some kind. And to boot, they appeared to have taken a wrong turning plus exchanged one set of pissed off bad guys for another. 

"This isn't Kansas," Jack raised an eyebrow, and his weapon. Carter and Daniel already had their guns out, and Teal'c had his staff weapon poised and ready to fire. "And someone obviously forgot to tell the munchkins here that they're supposed to be friendly."

The man he'd addressed rolled his eyes and snorted. "I don't know who the hell you are, but you're surrounded." He waved a hand, and several of his companions focused their weapons on Jack and his team. "Throw down your weapons and surrender or I'll tell my men to open fire." 

"Thanks for warm welcome, but no thanks," Jack replied. 

"I told you to lower your weapons," the man repeated. 

"And you need to work on the whole friendly greeting thing." Jack glanced around the room. What the hell had they interrupted? Although the men weren't dressed in any recognisable uniform, Jack could still spot military at one hundred paces. That, and the guy's subtle attempt at friendliness, made Jack reluctant to obey the man's command. If he wanted them to lower their weapons he'd have to come up with more of a convincing argument than because I said so. 

"Jack," Daniel coughed, "maybe if we explain to him why we're here he might lower /his/ weapon." He took a step forward. "Hi, my name's Daniel. We come in peace and don't mean you any harm. You see we were…" The man glared at him, and Daniel adjusted his glasses, his voice trailing off. 

"Daniel…" Jack warned.

"What?" Daniel shrugged. "Would you have preferred I opened fire instead?" 

"Did I say that?" Scanning the room for the DHD, Jack caught a movement from behind it and placed a warning hand on Daniel's shoulder after the guns trained on them shifted back to the DHD. 

"I wouldn't lower your weapons unless you have a death wish," a voice said dryly. "Nichol's already broken one promise today, it wouldn't take much for him to do it again." 

"Winner, I've already told you…"

"Told me what, Nichol?" the voice continued, in a resigned tone. "That you won't shoot if I surrender? I'm nearly out of ammunition, my partner's unconscious; I'm not exactly the threat you seem to perceive I am." Winner grunted, as though it was a struggle to pull himself up, and rose to his feet, his hands above his head. 

"For crying out loud," Jack exclaimed, "you're hunting a kid?" The boy couldn't have been more than seventeen, his blond hair hanging in sweaty bangs around his face, huge turquoise eyes pleading as he met Jack's gaze. 

What the hell was this place? Jack gave Nichol a glare. A kid this age shouldn't be in this situation, he didn't care what the set up was. There was no way he'd just sit back while this guy played hunter; had Nichol been kind enough to give the kid a head start as well as the limited ammo? 

"Please," Winner said. "You have to help us. Nichol shot my friend when I tried to surrender."

Nichol snorted. "Don't even think about it. I'm under orders to bring these two in; and don't try the innocent routine, Winner."  
  
"Innocent routine?" The blond boy looked at Nichol with a puzzled expression. "I'm merely telling the gentleman here what happened. I attempted to surrender, and you shot at me." 

"Carter," Jack directed. "Go check on his friend." He swapped his gun for a zat and fired it up. "Any one of your goons shoot her, and I'll shoot them. Comprende?" As he expected, Nichol held up one hand and gave his men a nod. Nothing like a healthy fear of the unknown to give the desired result. 

"Let her go," Nichol said. "But don't try anything." 

Winner shot him a glare; Jack noticed he was watching Carter carefully. "It's okay," she said, kneeling down behind the DHD, just out of sight. "What's your friend's name?"

"Trowa," Winner replied. "He was shot with a tranquilliser dart."

"He appears to be unconscious, Colonel, but his pulse and heartbeat seem okay." Carter reported after a few minutes. She frowned. "He doesn't look more than eighteen...sir."

"Where the hell do you guys get off hunting kids?" Jack took another step forward but Nichol didn't move. 

"This doesn't concern you, and you're outnumbered. Whoever you are, you haven't a clue what you've walked into. I won't tell you again – lay down your weapons and surrender."

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, and this does concern me." Jack caught Carter's eye and gave her a nod. "Kid?" he asked Winner.

"Quatre, sir. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner." 

Well-mannered kid too, Jack noted, reaching a decision. While he knew appearances could be deceiving, there was no way in hell he was prepared to leave these kids in the hands of this Nichol. They were moving out and taking them with them, to hell with the consequences. 

"Jack," began Daniel, his brow creasing into a frown. "We don't…"

"Not now, Daniel," Jack rolled his eyes. "We're getting out of here." 

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. And fired his weapon above Nichol's head. 

"Don't piss off the big guy with the staff weapon," Jack told Nichol. He fired his zat and several of Nichol's men collapsed, sparks of electricity surrounding them as they went down. 

"You can't do this!" Nichol protested. He aimed his gun in the direction of the DHD where Carter was shifting the weight of the unconscious teenager over her shoulder. "Take one step further, lady, and I'll kill you." 

There was the loud click of a gun cocking before Quatre spoke in a cold voice, his weapon aimed at Nichol. "Kill the lady, and I'll kill you." 

"Kid…" Jack began, noticing the complete turnabout in Quatre's tone and body language. Had the boy been playing him for a fool? 

"Colonel, do what you have to do to re-activate whatever that is," Quatre pointed to the Stargate, and his grip tightened on the gun. "We haven't got time to argue. Nichol's called for backup and they'll be here shortly." Quatre's expression softened for a moment. "You have to trust me, please."

Jack shoved his reservations aside. The kid's action was going to simplify their escape route, and Jack wasn't in the mood to take on more bad guys. So what that the kid had had some training; it still didn't change the fact that he and his friend needed their help. Once they got to the other side of the gate, they'd sort out the details. One kid against the SGC wasn't going to get far and that scenario was a damn sight better than this one. 

"Daniel, dial us home," he ordered. 

"Shoot him!" Nichol screamed at his men. They raised their weapons, but hesitated as Quatre moved closer to their leader and wrapped one hand around his throat, his gun still pointing at the man's temple.

"Daniel, move it!" Jack yelled. Nichol's men were hesitating; it was only a matter of time before one of them got trigger-happy, and all hell broke loose. 

The first chevron moved into place, followed by the second. 

"You idiots! They're getting away and taking the Gundam pilots with them!" Nichol kicked Quatre in the stomach and knocked the boy to the ground. They rolled around the floor struggling for control of the gun. 

Third chevron. Fourth. Fifth. 

/Damn it, kid, move out of the way!/ Jack thought, unable to get a clear shot. 

Sixth chevron. Seventh. 

Quatre gasped and lost his grip on the gun. One of Nichol's men took aim at Carter as she headed for the gate. 

"Carter, get down," Jack yelled. She dived for the ground, protecting Trowa's body with her own. Moving to assist Carter, Teal'c shot the man who had attempted to take her out. 

"Oh boy," Daniel took a step back from the DHD and stared at it.

The eighth chevron locked into place followed by the ninth, and the wormhole roared to life. 

"What the hell?" Jack exclaimed. "Daniel?" 

"It wasn't me!" Daniel insisted, taking cover behind the DHD to avoid being hit by gunfire.

Several more shots fired in the direction of the now open gate, and Jack ducked. As long as it provided a passage out he'd worry about it later. Activating the GDO, he sent the signal through the wormhole, hoping like hell that the powers that be knew what they were doing. 

"Quatre, move!" Jack fired the zat at Nichol as Quatre rolled. The boy's eyes were glazed over; although he'd obeyed Jack's command, he seemed slightly out of it. "Daniel, help him, I'll cover you." 

Supporting Trowa between them, Teal'c and Carter stepped through the wormhole. Jack took up a position by the event horizon and waited for Daniel and Quatre. Daniel helped Quatre to his feet; the boy shook his head and said something in a low tone before the two of them ran for the gate. 

Just before they reached the wormhole, Daniel cried out and stumbled. "Damn," muttered Quatre. He grabbed the gun from Daniel's belt, turned and fired two shots in rapid succession. 

Jack blinked at Quatre's quick recovery time before adding a couple of shots of his own to cover them. Catching Daniel as he collapsed, Jack removed the dart from the side of his friend's neck. The archaeologist's eyes were closing, his body going limp, as the drug from the tranq gun entered his blood stream. 

The door to the room burst open, more soldiers filling the room. "04!" someone yelled. "He's getting away." 

Quatre stumbled, his hand going to his shoulder as he went down. Pushing Daniel through the gate with a muttered apology, and hoping he wouldn't hit the ramp face-first, Jack went back for Quatre. The kid had helped them; there was no way he'd repay that by leaving him behind. 

"Go, please…save…" Quatre struggled to his feet. 

"Like hell!" Jack swung the protesting boy over his shoulder and dived into the event horizon.

Hammond was going to love this. 

******

End of Chapter One

TBC


	2. Chapter Two

The Road to OZ (2/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover. 

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.   
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

  
Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Kashie's drawn some gorgeous fanart for chapter one which you can see here – 

  
Archive: 

  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction. 

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

  
Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, haraamis, Gina, Spaceseeker, Anon, and Meg. 

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

============================================================

Chapter Two

"Incoming travellers," the loud speaker was still blaring, when Jack stepped out of the wormhole. Glancing around, he let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of the SGC. Not that he didn't trust Daniel to dial home, but after the eighth and ninth chevrons had encoded, he hadn't been sure what the hell to expect. 

"Close the iris!" Jack yelled. "And I need a medic here." The titanium barrier closed behind him, yet he felt no pity at the sound of several muffled thuds which signalled that at least a couple of the soldiers had tried to follow them. Nichol hadn't been the flavour of the month even before he'd taken a pot shot at Daniel.

Jack saw Quatre rub his chest and shiver. The kid frowned when he saw Frasier examining his friend. Carter was right; the other boy didn't appear to be much older, although it was difficult to tell from this distance, especially with the weird bang obscuring half his face. 

"Trowa?" 

"He's in good hands," Carter reassured Quatre. The boy's head fell back, and he went limp in Jack's arms. 

"Medic!" Jack yelled again. While he knew that the kid had been hit with a tranq, he didn't like the way in which Quatre had rubbed at his chest before passing out. Easing the boy onto the ramp, Jack stood back to let the medics move in. "Team status?" he snapped. 

"I'm okay, Colonel," Carter reported.

"I am unharmed, O'Neill," Teal'c replied, his face impassive as usual. 

Directing medics to load Trowa onto a gurney, Frasier began her examination of Daniel. "Dr. Jackson appears to have been drugged," she said. "His symptoms are similar to the boy's but I'll know more after I've done a CBC and tox screen. He's also going to have a nasty bruise on his face from where he hit the ramp." 

Jack winced. 

"He was unconscious when he came through the gate, O'Neill," Teal'c said. 

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Jack muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat. "The kid with the brown hair is Trowa," he told Frasier, "and the blond is Quatre." Glancing at Trowa, and back to Quatre again, he noticed for the first time the similarity in their clothing. Matching jackets, dark trousers and shirt – it was definitely a uniform of some kind, and he doubted they were trying out for the school track team. 

General Hammond approached the ramp. "What happened, Colonel?" he asked. "And who are these boys? This was /supposed/ to be a simple recon mission."

"Someone forgot to tell the Goa'uld that," Jack snorted. "We barely made it out of there in one piece."

"Unless the Goa'uld have started using tranquilliser darts, there's something else going on here that you haven't told me yet. Once Dr. Frasier clears you, I expect a full debriefing, Colonel." Hammond's expression hardened. "Does the other boy have the same symptoms, Doctor?"

Frasier was now hovering over the gurney onto which Quatre had been loaded. "Yes, sir." She held up a tiny dart and carefully put it into a sterilised bag. "This was in his shoulder, General. I'll run some tests, but I suspect it contains traces of a neurotoxin of some kind." 

"Why were these teenagers shot with tranquilliser darts, and how did Doctor Jackson manage to get involved?" Hammond was wearing his 'what the hell have SG1 gotten themselves into now' look.

"He was in the line of fire…sir," Jack answered. "As to why; do you want the short version or the long version?" 

"The short version…for now. I'll expect you and your team to report to the briefing room once Dr. Frasier has given you all a clean bill of health."

"We came, we saw, we kicked butt." Jack shrugged. "Oh, and I think we pissed off the natives. Guess they won't be inviting us back for Thanksgiving." 

Frasier gave her team a nod, and they began moving out. As the men carrying Trowa passed him, Jack put a hand out to stop them. The boy's arm had slipped off the gurney, and the movement had pulled his unzipped jacket away from his chest to reveal a square bulge. Curious, Jack cautiously slipped his hand inside Trowa's pocket – he hadn't forgotten how comfortable Quatre had seemed handling the gun - to retrieve a CD. 

******

"How overdue is overdue?" Duo asked Une. Quatre was a stickler for schedules, and while Duo didn't know the mission specifics, Une wouldn't have used the word lightly. 

"Twelve hours," Une answered. "Which is why I've sent for you." She paused and gave each of them a nod. 

"You want us to go in after them and provide backup if it's required?" Heero asked, getting directly to the point as usual. 

"Yes, " Une answered. "We received information that the remnants of OZ and White Fang are working together on a weapon with the potential to shatter the peace we've all worked to create."

Duo snorted. "You'd think they would have gotten the message that weapon building is a big no-no by now." He frowned. "What remnants of OZ and White Fang?" 

"Not all of them surrendered their weapons after the Mariemeia incident," Wufei reminded him. "Even with the enforced armistice."

"And peacetime isn't openly welcomed by everyone," Sally said. "With the mobile suit and weapon factories being closed down, a lot of people don't see it as progress, but more as loss of income."  
  
"We risk our lives to end the war; fight, so that others don't have to, and these idiots are worried about the state of their bank balance?" Duo wasn't impressed. 

"Money and power is often a powerful motivation," Une said. "But motivation aside, it's important that these people are not allowed to go ahead with whatever they have planned. The Preventers were formed to keep the peace, and although we do get involved in other matters from time to time, it has always been our priority." She studied the information in front of her for a moment. "Our informant supplied information leading us to believe that OZ is using an abandoned resource satellite in the L4 colony cluster as their base of operations."

Heero raised an eyebrow. "L4?" His next question didn't take a great leap to figure out. "This satellite wouldn't happen to be owned by Winner Enterprises, by any chance?"

"Yes, it was," Une replied. It wasn't surprising; after all, Quatre's family did own most of the controlling interests on L4. 

"I bet Cat was pissed about that one," Duo muttered. 

"He wasn't impressed, if that's what you are implying, Agent Maxwell." The tone in Une's voice was a reminder that she was in charge and that he should watch his language.

"Right," Duo nodded. He'd wondered why Quatre had been involved in this, as he wasn't a full-time Preventer like the rest of the Gundam pilots. Instead he split his time between the Preventers and running his family business, with the understanding that if his expertise was required for a particular mission, he would be available. He'd also admitted to Duo that he missed the adrenaline rush of the events of the war, and that he couldn't face the thought of spending 24/7 behind a desk. This was a compromise. 

"Further research by Agent Winner also suggested that some of this operation might have been funded by money embezzled from his company." She paused. "He was quite…persuasive in his arguments to be included in this mission. I had planned to assign another agent to accompany Agent Barton anyway, and the two of them do work extremely well together."

Quatre /could/ be very persuasive when he set his mind to something. Une wouldn't have stood a chance. Duo grinned, imagining Quatre's reaction when he'd discovered that someone was using his resources to build a weapon. He wouldn't want to be in that person's shoes once Quatre got the information that he needed to prove it. 

"So what /exactly/ was their mission?" Wufei asked. 

"They were to infiltrate the resource satellite…"

"The /abandoned/ resource satellite," Duo interrupted, unable to resist the smart-ass remark. Heero kicked him under the table.

"Find whatever information they could regarding the weapon, and get out again without being discovered." Une ignored Duo's comment and continued with her explanation. "Agent Barton radioed in to confirm that they'd made it onto the satellite without incident, and that he would report in when they had completed their mission." 

"Either they were discovered, or someone was expecting them," Heero frowned. "My conclusion would be the latter. Trowa managed to infiltrate OZ during the war; this shouldn't have posed any problems."

A nasty thought struck Duo. "Think about it. Stealing money from Quatre to make weapons isn't something someone without a death wish would attempt. However, stealing money to make weapons, and then leaving a trail of breadcrumbs behind to lead someone right where you want him…"

"That's ridiculous," Une said. "I sent Winner and Barton because they were the best agents for the job. We didn't discover the link to Winner Enterprises until after I'd assigned Barton to the case."

"And you assigned him because you needed a practised infiltrator, which just happens to be Trowa's field of expertise?" Heero snorted. "I very much doubt that just anyone could get past Quatre's security measures. He designed them himself and then asked me to test the program for him. The only way someone could have done this without Quatre noticing sooner is if they were working from the inside, and left the trail when they were ready to be discovered, knowing…"

"…how Quatre would react to the information," Wufei finished. He didn't need to add the obvious; designing a scenario requiring Trowa's skills, and then revealing this information would have ensured getting two Gundam pilots for the price of one. 

"It's too much of a co-incidence," Duo agreed. "But why the hell would they target Tro and Cat? Unless…" He paused and twisted the end of his braid around his fingers, before turning to Heero. "I remember that OZ used you and Tro as test pilots during the war and imprinted your battle data onto the mobile dolls. Could they be planning something similar?" 

"You're reaching, Agent Maxwell," Une said. "This is a simple mission gone wrong. Even Gundam pilots occasionally run into the unexpected and need help."

"I'm sure Lady Une knows what she's doing," Sally said. 

"Does she?" Duo struggled to keep his temper under control. "You said earlier that this was a joint operation between the remnants of OZ and White Fang?" None of the pilots were comfortable with the fact that former OZ and Alliance troops made up a large proportion of the Preventers organisation. Although the war had been over for nearly three years, there was no love lost between the two. Une had promised that their identities as Gundam pilots wouldn't be revealed if they agreed to work for her; but giving five teenagers command of crucial missions had only added to the tension between them and the other operatives. 

"I know that we were once enemies," Une began.

"But?" Duo asked. If she'd sent Trowa and Quatre into a trap, based on information she'd received from some former OZ bastard, she'd better make sure that her life insurance was up to date. Sally gave him another warning glance, but Duo ignored it. He trusted Sally, but she hadn't been captured by OZ, worked over, and then thrown into a cell to await execution. 

"We're on the same side now." 

Une might be, but that didn't mean her informant was. It wouldn't be the first time that someone had played both sides to his or her own advantage.

Heero's voice was cold. "Who supplied you with the information?"

"Someone I can trust," Une replied. "Someone I have trusted in the past…with my life."

"You're not trusting him with /your/ life," Duo rose to his feet. "You're trusting him with Trowa and Quatre's." 

"And I'll take responsibility for that," Une snapped. "I'm running this operation, Maxwell, and I expect you to remember that." 

"This informant worked with you in OZ, didn't he?" Duo kept pushing. "Was he aware that Trowa and Quatre were Gundam pilots? Did he suspect Trowa of being a Gundam pilot while he was undercover?" Duo's eyes narrowed. "I know Trowa destroyed Deathscythe under your orders, because he knew his cover was in jeopardy. Was this guy the reason his cover was in jeopardy?"

"I can not reveal the identity of an informant." Une addressed her next comment directly to Duo; her voice was calm, yet cold. "Agents Barton and Winner are twelve hours overdue, so I am presuming they have run into something unexpected. Therefore, I am sending in two teams to investigate and provide backup if necessary." She handed them a folder each. "This is the same information that they were provided with. Agent Chang, you and Agent Po will be one team. Agents Yuy and Maxwell will be the other."

She paused. "Good luck. You've already fought in two wars. Hopefully you won't be required for a third." 

****** 

Trowa opened one eye gingerly, then shut it again as another wave of nausea hit. The last thing that he remembered was being pulled behind that strange podium after he'd taken the tranquilliser dart that had been meant for Quatre. 

Quatre. Where was Quatre? Picturing his lover in his mind, Trowa reached out for him through their empathic link only to find…nothing. Even when they were apart, or Quatre was asleep, he always had a sense of what Quatre was feeling; he should /know/ if Quatre was injured or needed help. This gaping hole, this darkness, could only mean two things.

It made sense that if they'd both been captured, Quatre would have been given the same drug as Trowa. After all, the dart had been fired at him in the first place. Without knowing what sedative had been used, there was no way of knowing how long the effect on their connection might last. 

The second option was one that he didn't dare contemplate. 

Biting down on his lower lip, Trowa slowly counted to ten, opened both eyes this time, and frantically searched the room. 

/Cat, please. Be all right./

He couldn't help the sigh of relief when he saw Quatre in the bed next to his. The other pilot was still unconscious, but Trowa could see the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lock of blond hair blown gently by his breath. 

Reaching again, Trowa felt a slight tickle against his consciousness, and then it was gone. On some level, Quatre was fighting to reach out to him and restore their link, but the sedative must have shattered their empathic connection. It wasn't the first time that it had happened; but those memories didn't offer any reassurance. 

Damn it. Why did Quatre always have to play the self-sacrificing hero? There had been no need for him to surrender in order for their plan to work. But of course that small detail had never stopped him in the past. When Quatre made up his mind on a course of action, it took a fair amount of persuasion to convince him to change his chosen path. Living with a strategic genius had definite drawbacks when it came to attempting to win arguments. 

"How are you feeling?" A woman wearing a white coat gave him a smile as she walked over to his bedside. "Trowa, isn't it?" 

Trowa nodded; he didn't see the point in denying information that the enemy already possessed. Nichol had addressed both him and Quatre by name and by their pilot designations. 

"I'm Doctor Frasier," she introduced herself. "Do you want something for the nausea? That's a very powerful sedative you were given."

"No," Trowa replied. More drugs would mean a longer recovery time. Although she was offering to ease his discomfort, it didn't mean that she would give him something that would. 

Attempting to pull himself into a sitting position, he found himself hampered by something firm around his arms. Padded restraints? It wasn't like OZ to be concerned about the welfare of their prisoners. But then, they'd used tranqs instead of bullets. 

/"Unfortunately we need both of you."/

Nichol's words repeated through his mind, and he frowned. Need? For what? Before he could act, he needed more information. It would also be foolish to attempt to escape before Quatre regained consciousness; Trowa knew that he wouldn't get far until he'd recovered from the after effects of the sedation anyway, and leaving Quatre behind wasn't an option. 

Cautiously, he flexed his legs under the bedclothes, only to find that they were free. If he could somehow manage to reach one of his knives, then maybe he and Quatre stood a good chance of escape. 

"Do you have a headache?" Frasier asked. 

"No," Trowa lied, shaking his head, and immediately regretted it as the room spun sickening. 

"Really?" Frasier frowned. "I can't treat you properly if you don't answer my questions honestly, young man." Although the doctor was small in stature, there was something about her tone that suggested that she was used to being obeyed. 

"I have a slight headache," Trowa admitted. "But I don't want anything for it." He paused, glancing over at Quatre. "Thank you." Feigning co-operation could buy them valuable time. 

"Your friend will be fine," Frasier told him. "Once he's slept off the effects of what he was given." She paused. "Is there anything else you need?"

He managed a thin smile. "You could remove my restraints."

"I'm sorry, that's not possible. You and your friend are possible hostiles, and the safety of the SGC comes first."

"SGC?" The uniform she wore under her coat was definitely military, but it wasn't one that he was familiar with. Une had said that OZ and White Fang had joined forces, but he doubted that they would waste valuable funds on designing themselves a new uniform. Unless they'd joined forces with a third organisation…

"Stargate Command," she answered. "Try to get some rest; I'll be back shortly." 

Stargate Command? Whatever this new organisation was, any information regarding its existence had been hidden extremely well. Trowa watched her leave, noticing her exchanging several words with the two guards stationed outside the door. He examined his surroundings, hoping to find clues as to the identity of their captors and anything that could be used to his and Quatre's advantage. 

There were two other beds in the room; Quatre was occupying the one next to his, and there appeared to be someone in the bed to Quatre's right. Trowa lifted his head from the pillow and wriggled up the bed as far as his restraints permitted, but he was unable to get a good look. 

The door swung open, and Trowa shifted back into his original position quickly. The man who entered was tall and slim; his hair was peppered with grey, although it was difficult to gauge his age. Late forties, Trowa guessed, maybe fifty. The guards on the door nodded in deference to the newcomer, confirming Trowa's suspicions that this was someone further up in the chain of command. 

The man stopped by the bed closest to the door and approached its occupant. He shook his head and muttered something under his breath, but Trowa was unable to make out what it was. 

Looking up, the man locked eyes with Trowa and walked over to him. "Glad to see you're finally awake, kid," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Restrained," Trowa said. It had been a while since someone had referred to him as kid. "And you are?"

"Colonel Jack O'Neill," he replied, not missing a beat. "And /you/ are?" O'Neill pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable. Trowa recognised the tactic immediately; make friends with the prisoner in order to encourage him to lower his guard. 

"Trowa," he replied. "Trowa Barton." 

"Well, Trowa," O'Neill leaned back in the chair, "do you want to tell me what you and your friend…"

Trowa ignored the pause and waited for O'Neill to continue. If he wanted information supplied, he was going to have to do better than that. 

"What you and your friend were doing armed to the teeth and being hunted by your friendly neighbourhood bad guy?" O'Neill continued. "Interesting collection of weaponry you boys had. Carter's having a ball trying to figure out what kind of metal one in particular is made of. Don't suppose you'd like to fill me in on the details? It would save one hell of a lot of time." 

Damn. They'd found their knives and, more than likely, the CD with the information that Quatre had downloaded. It was to be expected he supposed. No military operation would restrain their captives without frisking them first. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Trowa nodded towards the straps fastening his arms to the bed. "Suppose you fill me in on some details; you seem to have me at a disadvantage, Colonel." 

"We're on the same side, kid…Trowa," O'Neill rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to thank me for saving your butt and answer my questions. Haven't you been paying attention to the script?"

"According to my script," Trowa replied, "you release me and my friend, thank us for saving /your/ butt and answer all /my/ questions." 

There was a moment's silence, then O'Neill laughed. "Cute, but no dice. Trust is something that has to be earned, and you're not exactly playing ball." He leaned back in his chair again and studied the ceiling. "Let's try this again."

"If you insist," Trowa said, adopting a bored tone. Maybe playing for time until Quatre woke wouldn't be difficult after all. 

"Are you always this difficult?" O'Neill asked. "Your friend got all the good manners when they were handing them out, didn't he?" He sighed. "Okay, right. Let's try this another way. You ask me a question, and then if I answer it, I get to ask you one."

Trowa nodded. That sounded fair to him; O'Neill was perfectly within his rights to /ask/ a question. "Where are we and what is Stargate Command?"

"That's two for the price of one," O'Neill grinned. "But as I'm in a generous mood today, I'll answer both. Of course this means I get two questions in return."

"Of course," Trowa agreed with that reasoning. 

"You're on Earth, in a medical facility. Stargate Command is where our Stargate is situated." 

Stargate? What was a Stargate? Although he was curious, Trowa did not want to push his luck; it was more important to work out where they were first. "Where exactly on Earth?"

"You've heard of Earth?" O'Neill raised one eyebrow. "Tsk tsk, and you've never bothered to invite us over for dinner? Haven't you guys heard of interplanetary relations?"

"Of course I've heard of Earth," Trowa stared at him in disbelief. "Even the smallest child in the colonies has /heard/ of Earth." This conversation was taking a turn for the weird. Nichol knew who they were; even if he hadn't shared the knowledge with O'Neill, surely the man would have recognised their Preventer uniform. 

The door to the infirmary opened again, and Doctor Frasier re-entered the room. "Any idea when Daniel's going to stop playing sleeping beauty," O'Neill asked. 

She shook her head. "According to the tox screen, he'll be out for a while. The neurotoxins seem to be taking longer to work their way out of his system." Frasier frowned. "I'll know more when I run further tests." 

"He will wake up though, right?"

"Yes, Colonel," Frasier replied. "It's just a case of when." 

"My turn to play twenty questions now," O'Neill turned his attention back to Trowa. "Why was Nichol hunting you and Quatre?"

"I don't know," Trowa replied honestly. Surely if O'Neill was working with Nichol he should already know the answer? Either Nichol hadn't told him or he was part of a separate organisation and not connected to OZ or White Fang. 

O'Neill snorted. "You don't know? Look kid…"

"Trowa."

"Look…kid, the way the deal works is like this. You asked questions which I answered, now it's your turn. Didn't your parents teach you how to…"

"Next question," Trowa interrupted. He didn't remember his parents, nor did he know who they were. This wasn't a subject that he wished to discuss with O'Neill, and it had nothing to do with the mission. "I…" 

The link between him and Quatre suddenly opened with a rush; the room did a crazy dance as it spun wildly. Guilt, fear and anger washed over him, and he inhaled sharply. 

"Doc, over here," O'Neill was by Trowa's side in an instant, easing him back down onto the pillow. 

"Trowa!" Quatre's scream filled the infirmary. He was thrashing against his restraints, trying to break free. "Heero, please! You've got to save him." 

"We need some help in here, " yelled Frasier. She was attempting to hold Quatre down, but he was fighting her. The guards whom Trowa had noticed outside the door earlier were by her side in an instant. One of them placed his arm across Quatre's chest to restrain him further, and Frasier began preparing a syringe. 

"Heero, no! Trowa's dying…" Quatre's voice dissolved into muffled sobs, but his eyes were still closed. 

"No!" Trowa suddenly realised why the emotions that he was feeling were so familiar. But Quatre hadn't had one of these nightmares for over a year. What the hell could have triggered it?

"He appears to be having a reaction of some kind," Frasier said. "I need you to hold him for me, while I administer something to counteract…"

"No!" Trowa yelled. He took several deep breaths and tried to focus on calming Quatre through their connection. Quatre grew quiet for a moment then began moaning softly, his head still moving from side to side. "He's having a nightmare…" Whatever Frasier was planning to give him it ran the risk of severing their link once more, and any chance he had of calming Quatre would go with it. 

"Hell of a doozy of a nightmare," O'Neill muttered. 

"It's…" 

/It's not just a nightmare, it's his memories./ 

Trowa couldn't…wouldn't tell them the truth. Quatre had destroyed several colonies while using the ZERO system; if they discovered that he was the Gundam pilot responsible… Nor could he allow them to find out about his and Quatre's empathic connection or their relationship, as that information could be used against them. 

O'Neill had said that trust needed to be earned, but he had yet to give Trowa any reason to trust /him/. 

"Trowa!" Quatre groaned, his voice starting to rise in volume again. 

"O'Neill, please," Trowa asked. "I know…I know how to calm him. You have to trust me."

"Trust you?" O'Neill snorted. "Why the hell should I?"

"Because he needs you to," Trowa said quietly, noticing the strained look in O'Neill's eyes as he glanced between the two boys. "I promise I won't try to escape. Please." 

"If we could do this without more drugs, it would be better for my patient's welfare," Frasier answered O'Neill's unspoken question. 

"Right, kid," O'Neill began undoing Trowa's straps. "I'm trusting you this far, but that doesn't mean I'm trusting you further." He paused. "And in return I'm expecting some answers. Some proper answers, not this smart ass crap routine you've been giving me, okay?" 

"Okay," Trowa agreed. For now, his priority was Quatre; he'd worry about the consequences later. Pulling himself into a sitting position, he bit down on his lip after the room spun again. The link between them was wide open and Trowa couldn't understand why. Usually the only thing that triggered it to this degree was when they made love; Quatre's natural ability to shield usually kept everything in check at other times. 

Focusing on getting to Quatre, Trowa crossed the couple of feet between their beds as quickly as he could. Placing one hand on Quatre's forehead, he began stroking his brow and speaking calmly. "It's okay, Cat, I'm here. It's okay. It's just a dream." 

He repeated the words over and over like a mantra. They'd worked through Quatre's guilt and memories – at least as far as they could. Quatre hadn't had any ZERO related nightmares since they'd moved in together, and even before that none had been this severe. Whatever the drug was that they'd been given, it must be at least partially responsible. 

"He's okay now," Trowa met the concerned looks of Frasier and O'Neill after Quatre's breathing began to even out. He looked down and saw that he was shaking. 

"It's okay, kid, I've got you." O'Neill caught Trowa as his legs buckled under him. Frasier grabbed the chair that O'Neill had been sitting in before and helped Trowa into it. 

"Thank you," Trowa said, nodding towards Quatre. He paused. "You didn't need to do that."

"Kid…" O'Neill began. "Trowa, you've still given me no reason to trust you, but maybe I've given you a reason to trust /me/." He shook his head. "I haven't a clue whether you're friend or foe at this stage, but…give me a break, okay? For crying out loud, I'm not about to see some kid suffer from whatever the hell that was, when there's an alternative." 

"Colonel," Frasier interrupted. "He's waking up." She glanced over at O'Neill, and he shrugged. 

"Lose the restraints," he said, "but I'll station a couple of extra guards /inside/ the room. They owe me, and Trowa promised that he wouldn't escape." O'Neill turned to Trowa. "Try anything kid, and I'll have the pair of you in handcuffs so fast…"

Trowa gave him a tiny nod of thanks as Quatre opened his eyes and met his gaze. The other boy smiled. "Trowa," he said. "You're okay." 

"Quatre," Trowa began but O'Neill interrupted him with a cough. 

"Sorry, kids, but you can play catch up later. Now you're both awake…" He paused. "Would one of you like to explain what the hell just happened?" 

============

End of Chapter Two

TBC

===========


	3. Chapter Three

The Road to OZ  (3/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst.  Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover. 

Pairings:  - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.   
                 - Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

  
Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Kashie's drawn some gorgeous fanart for chapter one which you can see here – 

  
Archive: 

  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction. 

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

  
Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, haraamis, Gina, Spaceseeker and Anon. Also to Misanagi and Shadow for their input and support. 

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

============================================================

Chapter Three

Daniel groaned and rubbed at his temples. He felt like shit. Opening one eye carefully, he winced at the bright light and tried to pull himself into a sitting position. 

"It's okay, Daniel. Lie down, and I'll get you something for the headache." Janet's voice was firm but reassuring. "You're going to feel nauseous and unsteady for a while." 

"Thanks," Daniel replied, easing himself back onto the pillow.  "Knowing that makes me feel so much better already." After turning his head slowly, he realised, as his vision cleared, that he was in the infirmary. Reaching over to the cabinet by his bed, he fumbled around for his glasses. 

"Here," Janet handed him the spectacles before helping him into a half sitting position so that he could swallow the pill she offered. The water felt wonderful against his dry throat, and he nodded his thanks. 

"Try to take it easy," she advised. "You've been hit with a powerful sedative."

"Jack?" Daniel glanced around the room with a start when he realised that his friend was nowhere in sight. When he'd lost consciousness, bullets were flying and Nichol and his men had been closing in.  Sam and Teal'c had already managed to get through the gate so they would be safe, but Jack…

"He's fine," Janet told him. "You've just missed him; he'll be back later." She nodded in the direction of the beds to Daniel's left. The two boys who they'd met on the mission were sitting on the one furthest away. Quatre gave him a smile. "Rest," Janet continued, "and you're not to get out of bed until the dizziness and nausea passes."

Daniel feigned innocence. "Would I do that?"

"Yes!" Janet gave him a stern look. "I'll be back later to check on you, and I expect you not to have moved from this position when I do."

"Yes, Doctor." Daniel had seen an annoyed Dr. Frasier in action before. 

Janet smiled at him. "I'm glad to see that we have an understanding." She gave the two boys a glare. "And those orders to rest apply to you as well." 

"Yes, Ma'am." Quatre answered quickly, and Trowa several moments later. The side of Trowa's mouth twitched, and Quatre glanced at him. Trowa shrugged, but said nothing. 

As soon as Janet had left the room, Quatre padded over to Daniel's bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked. 

One of the guards posted inside the room took a step forward, but Daniel raised one hand. "It's okay," he said. "We're going to talk for a while, that's all. They're friends." 

The guard stared at him for a moment, then returned to his post. 

Quatre helped himself to the chair next to the bed. "You'll have to excuse me for sitting but I'm still feeling a bit unsteady on my feet." 

Finding another chair, Trowa joined Quatre. "A bit?" He raised an eyebrow. "And you're /not/ in any fit state to stand." 

"I think I'm the one to judge that, not you." Quatre glared at Trowa, then returned his attention to Daniel. Daniel watched them with some amusement; these two were close friends, their banter and body language showed that very clearly. "How are you feeling?" Quatre repeated his earlier question. 

"I've been better," Daniel admitted. He struggled to rise and his stomach lurched. "This has definitely been one of /those/ days," he groused. "Is it just me, or has the room forgotten that we have gravity on Earth?" 

"It's you," Trowa said, moving over to pour a glass of water from the pitcher that Janet had left on the cabinet. "Here," he said, "sipping it slowly will help." 

"Thanks." Daniel took the water gratefully and eased himself back into the half-sitting position. His stomach seemed to appreciate the action.  "Trowa, isn't it? You sound as though you're speaking from experience." 

The two boys exchanged a glance. "Trowa Barton," Trowa nodded. "I apologise for not introducing myself sooner, but I was rather...out of it. Thank you for helping Quatre and myself; we appreciate it."  After effects of sedation did not appear to be the only thing in which he was experienced. Sidestepping questions neatly was also an acquired skill. 

"Daniel Jackson." Daniel shrugged. "And no problem regarding the help. Quatre helped us out too, so now we're even."

"Really?" Trowa seemed amused. "I had a feeling he was downplaying his involvement in our escape."  

"I didn't do that much," Quatre muttered, looking uncomfortable. "Your weaponry is quite interesting. Your technology must be quite ahead of ours." Trowa frowned, and Quatre shook his head slightly before continuing. "I've never seen anything like that stone circle before…"

"The Stargate?" Daniel interrupted. "You've never had travellers come through it to your planet before?" 

"No, at least not as far as I know." Quatre paused. "Why is it called a Stargate?  Where are we exactly?"

"You're on Earth." Daniel frowned as the boys exchanged another glance. "What? Have you heard of Earth? I suppose with all the trips we've made through the gate and the people we've met, it's not surprising that you have. It's a remarkably small universe out there." He stopped for breath and grinned. "Well, small considering that everyone seems to know everyone else, big in the sense that there are a lot of planets we still haven't visited. We've only seen the tip of the iceberg, so to speak. It's quite a daunting thought really. So much to explore, different societies to study, people to meet."

"Where exactly /on/ Earth?" Quatre interrupted him. 

"Stargate Command," Daniel answered. "And sorry, I can't tell you anything more." The Stargate project was highly classified; so far, he had not told them anything that they would not already know, or that would not be easily guessed. Telling them what planet that they were on was permissible, where on that planet was not. 

"That's not very helpful," Trowa muttered. 

"At least we know we are on Earth and not the Colonies," Quatre appeared to be thinking aloud. "So it's a device for instantaneous travel between the two. That's interesting. I had no idea that such technology existed." 

"Colonies?" Daniel asked. "Is that the name of your world?" 

"You could say that we're from the Colonies," Trowa answered dryly. "Well, Quatre is, I'm not entirely sure where I'm from originally." 

"But I thought you said that no one had come to your world through the Stargate before?" Daniel was confused. While it was true that most worlds which they had come across had been populated by Goa'uld slaves, most of the natives were unaware of their past and presumed that their current planet of residence was their place of origin. Or could their world have discovered interplanetary travel? It would explain the boys' talk of the 'Colonies' /and/ knowledge of Earth. Others SG1 had encountered, such as the Tollan, had advanced technology…

"I said not as far as I know," Quatre repeated his earlier statement. "I wonder what else they've been doing on that satellite that I'm not aware of."  The angry tone creeping into Quatre's voice belied the smile that he gave Daniel.  "I'm sorry that you and your friends got involved in this. It isn't your fight, it's ours." 

"You were outnumbered," Daniel remembered. "We don't make a habit of standing by and doing nothing given that kind of situation." He smiled as he remembered Jack's comment. "Your friend Nichol needs to take some lessons on how to win friends and influence people."  

"He's not our friend," Quatre sighed. "We have a…let's just say there's no love lost between us. We've fought on different sides in the past, and I doubt he's ever going to forget that. A lot of people don't. It can be difficult to…"

"Cat," Trowa warned. 

"It's okay," Quatre looked down at his lap before continuing brightly. "So are you a medical doctor, Daniel or…?"  

"Cat?" Daniel asked, ignoring the question for the moment. He knew that Quatre had been very subtly grilling him for information. Two could play at that game. 

"Short for Quatre," Quatre explained. 

"I did work that out, yes," Daniel rolled his eyes. "Did you realise that your name means four in another language?"

"Yes, I did. And no, I wasn't the fourth child in my family. I was named after my mother." Quatre laughed. "I get asked that a lot." 

"Your mother's name was Quatre?" Daniel's mind began working through possible scenarios. If they also spoke French, how many other languages could their people have remembered? The possibilities were endless. 

"Quaterine," Quatre replied, pronouncing it as Katherine, but again with that odd inflection. 

Surely it must be a co-incidence? The Goa'uld had always transplanted potential slaves through the Stargate from specific areas on Earth. If these teenagers were aware of the different languages of Earth, rather than just English, it would mean that they were unlike any group that SG1 had encountered before. But even if they had come from different locations originally, surely one language would have dominated over the others? Could that be the reason for the inflection in their speech? Language was fluid; it changed and evolved over time. If the English which they spoke had originated on Earth thousands of years ago, it might explain the slight differences in syntax, especially if it wasn't their native tongue. 

"Parlez-vous francais? [1]" Daniel asked, keen to test his theory. A multi-lingual society would need further investigation. 

"Oui [2]," Trowa replied, "but I'm very rusty," he continued, slipping back into English. "Why?" 

"Just curious," Daniel said vaguely. One word wouldn't be enough; he needed a few sentences, at least to draw any helpful conclusions regarding the speech inflection. Had the Goa'uld tried to develop a multi-cultural society on this planet deliberately? Could they be trying to duplicate what had happened on Earth, and what would be the point of this experiment?

"What was the language on the podium we found? It was similar to that on the Stargate." Quatre's sudden question took Daniel by surprise. 

"What do you think it was?" Daniel took another cautious sip of water; the pounding in his head was beginning to recede as his mind took off at several miles an hour in search of a solution to his current puzzle. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the glass slipped from his hand. Trowa caught it before it hit the floor. 

"Are you okay," Trowa asked.

"Yeah, thanks. Just going to take me a while to get rid of those sedatives." Daniel's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How are /you/ feeling," he asked Quatre. Although Quatre must have been hit by one of the tranq darts after Daniel, the boy had apparently woken first and was showing less residual effects.

"Better than I was," Quatre's reply didn't answer the question, but Daniel wasn't surprised.  "And I don't know what language was on the Stargate or the podium; that's why I'm asking you." 

"Any ideas at all?" Daniel pushed for more information. He would go along with it if Quatre wanted to shift the conversation away from the sedatives. After all, Janet would be doing her own investigation, of that Daniel was certain. 

"I know what it's not," Quatre admitted.

"Which is?" Daniel prompted.

"English, Japanese or Arabic." Quatre leaned back in his chair and sighed. "And before you ask, yes, I speak Japanese. My father insisted on a well rounded education for his only son and heir."

Daniel sat bolt upright in the bed, all thoughts of how he was feeling forgotten. English, French, Japanese /and/ Arabic? Surely this couldn't be a co-incidence? 

"Quatre…" Trowa warned his friend again. 

"What?" Quatre spoke in an even tone, but his patience seemed to be waning. "I've already given my name to Colonel O'Neill, and Nichol knows who we are. The Winner name is well known throughout Earth and the Colonies, so I'm not giving Daniel any information that isn't readily available." He rose to his feet, walked over to his own bed and poured himself a glass of water before returning to his chair. "I'm tired of playing games, Trowa. Either Daniel's our friend, or he's not." Quatre paused. "I have a feeling that we can trust him. We have to trust someone."

"No," Trowa didn't sound convinced. "We don't. I trust your judgement, Cat, but I don't trust them. There's too much at stake here. We're being detained, they have our weapons and…"

Daniel coughed. "Excuse me, but I'm still here. And you haven't finished answering my question."  Quatre knew Japanese and Arabic, and Trowa spoke French. How many samples had been taken from different cultural groups? The boys had referred to the Earth several times. Had they managed to maintain their connection to their world of origin, to his world? Daniel shook his head. That was highly improbable but…he needed to know more.  

Both boys turned to stare at him. "Yes, I did," replied Quatre. "I told you that it wasn't English, Japanese or Arabic." 

"You can read Arabic?" Even with taking into account the multi-lingual transplant theory, and presuming that Quatre and Trowa's world /had/ developed along the same cultural patterns as Earth, it didn't make sense. Not this combination of languages. French and English were both Indo-European, Arabic was Semitic, and scholars were still arguing about the origin of Japanese. 

Had their world had been manipulated to develop its history and culture along similar lines to that of Earth? If SG1 had travelled through a quantum mirror to reach this world, Daniel's guess would be that it was a parallel universe, but they hadn't. 

"Excuse me?" Quatre sounded somewhat on edge. He stopped, rubbed at his chest, and then started to laugh. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?" 

"Should I?" Daniel frowned. "Your name is Quatre Winner. At least that's what you told Jack…Colonel O'Neill. Is that supposed to mean to something?"

"I'm sorry," Quatre apologised. "I think we've been talking at cross purposes all this time; I should have realised sooner." He gave Trowa a weary smile. "Maybe this situation isn't as bleak as we thought." 

******

Duo yawned and climbed into the co-pilot's seat. "I told you to wake me when we were three hours away from the satellite. You forget how to tell time all of a sudden?" 

"You were tired. It was better that you got as much sleep as possible," Heero gave him a smile as he looked up from the shuttle controls. "I have everything under control, and I require less sleep than you do."

"You still require /some/ sleep though," Duo reminded him. "How much did you get, exactly?" They had left the shuttle on autopilot for most of the journey; L4 was quite a distance away, and as neither had gotten much sleep the night before, it was important that they arrived at their destination well rested and ready to kick butt.

"Enough," Heero replied. "Even if you did insist on shoving your elbow in my ribs for most of the night."

"Hey!" Duo protested. "I thought you liked me up close and personal." He grinned before leaning over and giving Heero a kiss. "You could upset a guy with comments like that." Yawning again, he stretched. "I'm going to get a coffee, do you want one?" 

"Yes, thank you," Heero said. There was a pause. "And I do like you 'up close and personal.' I would just prefer it if the next hard thing pressing up against me wasn't your elbow."

Duo blinked, then laughed. "I'll see what I can arrange once this mission is over." He gave a mock bow before leaving the cockpit to make the coffee.  Heero's sense of humour had developed an interesting quality to it over the past three years. He'd come a long way for a guy who really hadn't had a clue about such things, but in some areas he still had miles to go. Their progress in undoing all the damage that J had done was slow, steady, and very much worth it. 

Glancing at his watch, Duo watched the cups fill with the muddy brown liquid that the  Preventers loosely referred to as coffee. About the only thing going for it was the caffeine. Even Quatre, a self-confessed coffee addict, had wrinkled his nose at the smell and asked if there was tea available instead. Trowa had laughed and whispered something in Quatre's ear, after which Quatre had blushed a rather fetching shade of red. Neither would share what had been said, but knowing those two, Duo wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

The milk powder added to the slosh, Duo made his way back to the cockpit. "I hope Cat and Tro are okay," he said, more to himself than to Heero, as he gave one cup of hot coffee to his partner and took a few cautious sips from the other.

"Quatre and Trowa are both Gundam pilots," Heero reminded him. "They are more than capable of looking after themselves." 

"Yeah, that's what worries me," Duo ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to rid them of the furry residue from the coffee. "If they've run into something /they/ can't handle, what the hell's going down on that satellite." He shook his head. "I don't care what Une says, this whole scenario stinks. What the hell could these people want with our friends? And why them? We're all Gundam pilots. Why not go after us instead?" 

"We need to discover what this weapon is that the enemy is supposedly working on," Heero reasoned. "This set up has been carefully orchestrated." He blew on the coffee then drained his cup. Duo stared at him; he could never get used to that habit. "It has also occurred to me that if Trowa and Quatre's arrival at the satellite was expected, then it is highly likely that they may be expecting this rescue attempt too." 

"How long till Wufei and Sally check in?" Duo checked his watch again and answered his own question. "About ten minutes. I know that we decided that it was better to split our resources and send in an advance scouting party, but I'd feel happier if it was us in there, rather than them."

"Why?" Heero raised an eyebrow. "Wufei and Sally are just as capable as we are." He frowned. "You're worried about them, aren't you?" 

"Of course I'm worried!" Duo snapped. "I've already got two friends missing and in god knows what danger; I don't want to lose two more." He put his cup down, and interlinked Heero's fingers with his own. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Damn Wufei and his 'let's toss a coin for it.' We're two hours behind them; /if/ they do run into trouble, that's two hours too long before we can get there." They had agreed at the time that sending an advance scout party, rather than putting all their eggs in one basket, was the way to go, but now that they were getting closer to their destination, Duo was having doubts. 

"It also gives them two hours to make a lasting impression on whoever is behind this." Heero checked one of the readouts on the console before engaging the stealth technology. Only a select number of Preventer shuttles possessed cloaking capabilities – Duo had installed it under the pretence of doing other modifications - and only the pilots knew the password to engage it. If only they still had their Gundams. The shuttles were fast, and very manoeuvrable, but the Gundams…

Nothing could compare to the Gundams. 

They would be effective weapons to fight back with, once the fragile peace did crash and burn around them. Although hopeful that it wouldn't, Duo had seen enough of human nature to not put stock in that dream. No, all his dreams normally were the stuff of nightmares.

Well, almost all. 

Noticing Heero watching him, Duo smiled. This was one dream which had turned out better than he could have hoped.  He was determined to hang onto it firmly with both hands and not allow it to be ripped away from him. 

"I've lost too many friends, Heero," he repeated. "I suppose that's why I'm so protective of the ones I have now. You guys are like family to me, hell, you /are/ family."

"You're my family too, Duo." Heero affirmed quietly. "All of you are." He squeezed Duo's hand before releasing it and turning his attention to the shuttle console. 

"05 to P2. Come in, P2." Wufei's voice shattered the silence. 

"02 here, 05. What's your situation?" Duo kept his tone crisp and his questions to the point. He might have aired his concerns to Heero, but that didn't mean that he was going to allow them to endanger the success of the mission. 

"We're in position and moving in to assess the situation," Wufei replied. 

"Any sign of 03 and 04?" Heero asked. 

"Negative." Duo could imagine Wufei shaking his head. "It's too quiet. Almost as though the station is deserted, or long since abandoned. I don't like it." 

There was a moment's silence before Wufei spoke again. "Damn it, we're going to need…"

A sudden burst of static filled the shuttle's cockpit. Duo gripped the side of the console and tried to control his growing feeling of dread.

Then the radio went dead. 

*****

[1] Do you speak French?

[2] Yes

*****

End of Chapter Three

TBC


	4. Chapter Four

The Road to OZ  (4/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst.  Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover. 

Pairings:  - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.   
                 - Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

  
Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Archive: 

  
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction. 

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

  
Thanks to the beta team: Bast,  haraamis, Spaceseeker, Anon and Gina. Also to Misanagi and Shadow for their input and support. 

Comments to: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

===========================================================

Chapter Four

"Sorry I'm late." Daniel slid into his seat, his coffee balanced in one hand and a pile of papers in the other. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he glanced around the conference table. "Did I miss anything?"

"Welcome, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "I'm pleased that you're feeling better, and no, you haven't. We were waiting for you before we got started on the debriefing." 

Daniel had the decency to look apologetic, but there was a familiar gleam in his eye that made Jack stifle a groan.  What the hell had gotten Daniel fired up /now/? "Sorry, General, I was talking to Quatre, and I forgot the time." He took a swig of coffee. "It's really quite fascinating the way their world appears…"

"One thing at a time, please." Hammond interrupted Daniel before he could go off on one of his enthusiastic ramblings. "We'll get to our visitors in due course." He nodded over to where Frasier was reading through a pile of what looked suspiciously like medical test results. "Dr. Frasier will be sharing her findings shortly, but I believe you have a mission to report on first. Colonel O'Neill?"

"Oh right, that." Jack cleared his throat. "It was a trap."

"A trap?" Hammond arched one eyebrow. 

"Indeed," Teal'c confirmed. 

"Instead of the nice, quiet stroll in the countryside we were expecting, we got hit by a Jaffa ambush. Friendly types, lots of firepower." Jack frowned. 

"They attacked as soon as you got through the gate?" Hammond asked. 

"No, they were really thoughtful. Waited a while, gave us time to work out that the Tok'ra agent we were supposed to be meeting wasn't going to show." Jack shrugged. "Then they attacked. As I said, friendly types."

"They were acting under the order of the Goa'uld using the name Bast," Teal'c took up the story. "As far as I am aware, she is not one of the system lords but…"

"Also known as Bastet," Daniel interrupted. "In Egyptian mythology she's most commonly represented as a young girl with a cat's head. She's the Goddess of cats…"

"So the whole cat's head thing is a clue, just in case we hadn't worked that one out yet?" Jack observed. 

"Also the Goddess of the rising sun, bounty and plenty." Daniel took another swig of coffee and ignored Jack's comment. "And sex, fertility, birth and eroticism. She was said to protect expectant mothers alongside Tauret and had a three day festival every year that was essentially an orgy of drink, food, dance and sex."   
  
"And this is bad, because?" Jack hoped like hell that there was a point to all this. 

  
"Bast is linked to Hathor's sexual aspect, just as Sekhmet is linked to Hathor's violent aspect. She's also a protector of the sun, is sometimes referred to as "The Tearer", and in this capacity is supposed to battle the serpent Apophis..." Daniel looked up and waited, as though he'd just supplied some vital piece of information. 

  
"Sounds like your average party girl in search of a good time." Jack hoped that this particular snakehead was not a staunch follower of their not so favourite Goa'uld.   
 

"Deceased family cats were offered to her, and many other cats were sacrificed in her honour," Daniel finished. The fun part of the debriefing had obviously come to an end.  "And remember that this is just the myth behind the Goa'uld; we have no way of knowing how much is true."

"I /do/ know that, Daniel," Jack reminded him. "And while your lecture was really interesting, it doesn't really tell us what she was doing on P2R-435." He shook his head. "Or what happened to the Tok'ra representative."

"I'll contact the Tok'ra as soon as we're finished here," Hammond promised, "and ask what information they may have regarding Bast. Jacob didn't mention her when we spoke, so I'm presuming that they were unaware of her presence there."

"Ya think?" Jack wasn't so sure, but he would hold back on jumping to conclusions until he had heard what Jacob had to say. He didn't trust the Tok'ra, but he did trust Jacob Carter. 

"But," Hammond prompted, "meeting Bast on P2R-435 doesn't explain the presence of our visitors. I was under the impression that the native population wasn't as technologically advanced as the weaponry we confiscated from them suggests."

"They aren't native to P2R-435," Carter confirmed. "Daniel managed to dial home while we were under fire, but for some reason the DHD didn't dial Earth's Stargate."

"Yes, it did," Daniel protested, frowning. "But for some reason, we came through into some sort of storage room on another world." 

"And straight into Nichol and his merry men hunting the kids," Jack remembered and started to explain what had happened.

"Do you know why Nichol was so interested in them?" Hammond asked, when Jack had finished.  

Jack shook his head. "He wasn't in a sharing mood," he said, "and the kids aren't being too helpful either. Trowa's got difficult down to an art form, and Quatre, although very polite, isn't much better. They both claimed that they don't know why Nichol was after them, but I'm not sure how much of that I believe. Hopefully, whatever Carter discovered on that disc I found in Trowa's pocket might answer some of the questions they couldn't…or wouldn't."

"We'll get to the disc in a moment, Colonel," Hammond reassured him. "So, for some reason the Stargate activated chevrons eight and nine, as well as the usual seven?" 

"I dialed in the co-ordinates for home," Daniel confirmed, "and then the DHD did the rest." 

"That's impossible." Carter frowned. "The chevrons either have to be engaged using the DHD, by a computer, or manually." 

"The boys had been using the DHD to shelter from Nichol and his men…what if..?" Daniel shook his head and answered his own question. "No, Trowa was already unconscious when we arrived, and I dialed out myself. No one else was near it." 

"The gate on their world must have had access to an outside power source," Carter pondered, "in order to initiate the eighth chevron." 

"Ten times as much power as normal, right?" Jack cut in. He had grown attached to the idea of knowing his destination when he entered the wormhole; if this had happened once, could it happen again? 

Teal'c looked at Jack, raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Yes, Sir." Carter seemed somewhat preoccupied; Jack could see the wheels turning from across the table. "And we have to take into account that the ninth chevron was activated, too; we have no idea what it does or the amount of power required. The eight chevron inputs a galaxy code and is used for travel across vast distances, beyond the normal range of the gate system but…I'll have to look into it further; the computer system meta-log should provide the data I need to formulate more of an idea as to what might have occurred."  She shook her head and frowned. "Unless…I wonder if the computer system mentioned in here might be able to supply the extra power needed. It appears to be…"

"What computer system?" Hammond asked. 

"The computer system mentioned on the CD that Colonel O'Neill retrieved, Sir," Carter replied. "It appears to be some kind of cockpit system capable of gathering battle information. It then uses the data to plan out every conceivable scenario of attack and defence before feeding the results directly into the pilot's mind."

Jack whistled. "That's some system. I don't suppose they were nice enough to include the plans for it?" They could kick some serious Goa'uld ass with a system like that; the potential was enormous. What the hell had the kids been doing with this kind of information? Whatever had been going down, Nichol would not have wanted them to escape with it.  

"It certainly needs further investigation," Hammond agreed. "How detailed is the information on it?"

"They've included the complete plans for the system, Sir." Carter leafed through the printouts in front of her. "The name given to it is ZERO, but it appears to have had a few modifications from the original to allow…" She paused. "It seems to have been adapted to interact with specific brain wave patterns, and to allow instructions to be relayed to the pilot from an outside source." 

"Specific brain patterns, as in specific pilots," Daniel asked. He shuddered. "That's…how safe is this thing?"

"The original system doesn't appear to include that adaptation, but the plans are here for both." Carter skimmed her notes. "Unfortunately, an error seems to have occurred when the data was uploaded to the disc, and I have no idea who the system was designed to be in tune with." She glanced at Daniel. "There isn't much in the way of test results regarding how safe it is either, but from the few there are, it appears that 99.9% of those tested as pilots for the system went from zero to psycho in ten seconds or less." Carter shook her head." There is, however, an enormous amount of information about fighting machines they term mobile suits, though the most interest appears to be in a specific form of suit called a Gundam. Apparently there were only five of those, if you don't count Tallgeese, but then that wasn't made of Gundanium alloy…."

"Back up," Jack ordered. "What the hell is a mobile suit?"

Instead of answering in words, Carter indicated the view screen. An image of something looking suspiciously like a giant robot appeared on the screen. "That, Colonel, is a mobile suit, or MS."

Jack peered at the screen closely. The suit definitely /did/ look like a giant robot, and it was clutching some kind of beam rifle in its right hand. "Oh great," he muttered, "we've stumbled on a plan to corner the toy industry on this planet. How many weeks is it to Christmas? Someone needs to warn Santa that his elves are in revolt." 

"Oh this isn't a toy, Colonel." Carter's eyes were bright; she had the look of a kid-let-loose in-a-candy-store. Jack waited, knowing that he would get the details, whether he asked for them or not. "This particular model, known as a Leo, stands at 16.2 metres high and weighs 7 tonnes. It's made from a Titanium Alloy…"

"The same stuff the iris on the gate is made from?" Jack whistled. "That's some robot." A whole army of these things wasn't something that he would want to come up against in a hurry. 

"Yes," Carter confirmed. "Except, as I said, these are made from an alloy, not pure Titanium like the iris. However," the image on the screen faded to be replaced by that of another robot, "as well as the Leos, there are also the Ares, which are bigger and heavier. They stand at 16.9 metres and weighing 8 tonnes and are land /and/ air suits." The screen changed again. "These are Taurus…"

"Don't tell me," interrupted Jack. "Bigger and faster?" 

"No, Sir." Carter shook her head. "Smaller and lighter, for heightened mobility in space, and with the ability to transform into something resembling a jet fighter. Their weaponry includes a beam canon and an optional laser gun."

"So these people fight their battles using these suits, rather than in person," Teal'c asked. 

"No," Carter indicated the suit on the screen. "The pilot sits in the chest cavity of the suit, which is the equivalent of a cockpit. Although they did manage to mass produce remote controlled suits later, called mobile dolls, the large majority of their war seems to have been fought between soldiers piloting the original suits."

"Who are their enemies?" Teal'c, not surprisingly, was interested in the finer details of the war. It made sense; after all, he had trained as a warrior and been the First Prime of Apophis before joining the good guys.  

"From what I can ascertain," Carter said, "different factions on the planet, which interestingly enough they call Earth, have been at war with each other for quite some time. Approximately 198 of their years ago, they established space colonies. There are references to five colony clusters, L1 – L5, and by AC102, the space colonists numbered fifteen percent of the human population."

"AC meaning After Colony?" Daniel seemed thoughtful. "This is all starting to make sense now."

"Want to share with the rest of the class, Daniel?" Jack knew that Daniel had spent some time talking with Quatre and Trowa; hopefully, he had been able to get more information from them. 

"Trowa and Quatre both spoke of Earth and the Colonies, and I presumed that they were referring to our Earth, and that 'the Colonies' was the name of their world." Daniel adjusted his glasses and took another sip of must have been cold coffee by now. "Quatre is from the Colonies, Trowa isn't sure of his origins. They must have also originally presumed that when we spoke of Earth, we meant their planet." He shook his head and suddenly grinned. "Quatre seemed surprised that I hadn't heard of his surname; the Winner name is apparently well known on their world. That must have been what clued him in…"

"And you were planning on telling us this…when?" Jack rolled his eyes. 

"I've only just worked it out myself, Jack." Daniel seemed somewhat annoyed, but Jack got the impression that it was more with himself than the boys. "No wonder he seemed amused." 

"These boys do not seem particularly forthcoming with information," Hammond noted. He turned to Frasier, who had been following the conversation, but so far hadn't joined in with any pearls of wisdom of her own. "Do there seem to be any noticeable physiological differences between them and us? Any ill effects for having lived on these space colonies, rather than on their Earth?" If these people were prepared to share their technology, the repercussions could have far reaching effects, especially as it implied that they could be scientifically advanced in other areas too. 

"Nothing too noticeable," Frasier confirmed. "But they appear to possess faster reaction times than we do, and were able to shake off the affects of the sedative much more quickly than Dr. Jackson." She consulted her notes. "The sedatives in the tranquilliser darts were far in excess of the amount I'd use to take down a teenager. Not having access to others of their world, I can only draw two conclusions. Either that one of the side effects of their people adapting to colonisation is that they have developed this ability, or that these boys are not the norm, and that the sedative was tailor made to take this into account."

"I'd go for the latter." Carter's voice was sombre. 

"What the hell?" Jack couldn't help but voice his concern. "Are you trying to tell us that these kids are some kind of experiments?" 

"Not necessarily scientific tampering, Jack." Daniel chewed the end of his pencil thoughtfully. "Evolution perhaps? People are often scared of something new, of something they don't understand. That could have been the reason why Nichol was after them." 

"What makes you so sure, Major?" Hammond's question interjected a voice of reason into the conversation. Facts would be rather handy right about now, instead of flights of fancy. Jack forced himself to stay calm and waited for Carter's answer.

Instead of what Jack was expecting, Carter continued with her history lesson. "In AC 175, the peace between the Earth and the Colonies was shattered with the assassination of the pacifist, Heero Yuy. The Alliance, who is apparently the ruling government of Earth, was forced to defend itself from the Colonists who took Yuy's death as a declaration of war. Years of uprisings followed, with the Alliance barely managing to survive intact. Then, three years ago, in AC 195, the Colonists launched their ultimate plan, Operation Meteor."  She paused. "The plan was to drop one of the colonies onto the Earth and decimate it."

"These Colonists were going to destroy the Earth?" Daniel sounded disgusted. "That's paramount to genocide. But I still don't see what Quatre and Trowa have to do with this; they're just kids."

"I'm getting there," Carter said. The image of the mobile suits, which they had been looking at before, changed to show another suit, but this one was clearly custom made; while it shared the basic giant robot look, it was sleeker and appeared to have more in the way of firepower. "This," Carter announced, "is a Gundam - Wing Gundam, designation 01, to be precise. Each colony cluster sent one of these advanced mobile suits and a pilot to Earth to carry out Operation Meteor."

"Gundams?" Jack knew that he'd heard that word somewhere recently, but he couldn't quite place it. 

"They are made out of a new alloy called Gundanium which was created in high-temperature plasma that can only form in zero gravity. The name comes from the original name for the formula, Genetic on Universal Neutrally Different Alloy. The 'ium' was added later to distinguish the alloy from other, similar ones being developed on Earth around the same time."

Jack interrupted before Carter got too into the techno stuff. "And your point is?" 

"The Gundanium armour makes these Gundams nearly invulnerable to normal beam weapons and physical attacks. With the Colonists having five of these suits, and using highly trained terrorists to pilot them, the Alliance lost many troops and resources while attempting to defend both itself and the Earth."

"One of these Gundams would indeed be useful to defend ourselves against the Goa'uld," Teal'c surmised. "Continue please, Major Carter."

"Teal'c has a point," Hammond agreed. "Even if they were unwilling to share the mobile suit technology, the alloy itself has much potential." 

"I think I may have a sample of it, General," Carter said. "I still have to run more tests to be certain but the knives that Colonel O'Neill found on the boys aren't made of any metal known here on Earth, and I suspect it may be Gundanium. They are impervious to any damage I've attempted to inflict on them, and their base compound matches that which is given for the alloy."

"No wonder they weren't very forthcoming with information about their weaponry," Jack muttered. With Daniel's comment about Quatre being from the Colonies, and with what they had learnt, it was beginning to look as though these kids were Colony sympathisers at the very least and might even have knowledge of these Gundams and their pilots. A nasty thought stuck him. "We aren't the only ones going to see the potential in this, General." 

"I realise that, Colonel." Hammond glanced around the room. "Under the terms of the agreement we have with the NID, we are obliged to pass on information regarding any new technology. What we've learnt so far regarding the ZERO system and Gundanium certainly falls under that umbrella." He paused. "And if Trowa and Quatre have information they aren't sharing, it stands to reason that the NID will want to ask them a few questions too."

"You can't seriously be suggesting that we hand a couple of kids over to the NID?" Jack protested. There was no way that he was going to let his least favourite, nosy, interfering military types get wind of either this technology or the kids. The NID had done nothing in the past to disprove his theory that it possessed neither morals nor ethics. 

"I'm not sure we have a choice, Colonel," Hammond admitted. 

"There's always a choice," Daniel said. "And what if the people from the NID discover that the boys have these 'enhancements'? I can just imagine their minds ticking over with ways to exploit it." 

"I don't like this any more than you do, Dr. Jackson," Hammond said. "But we need to know exactly what information we are dealing with first." He nodded towards Carter. "Could you tell us more about these Gundams please, Major?" 

"Each Gundam is different, and the chosen pilots were sent from the different colonies," she continued. "I'll paraphrase the information given for each Gundam pilot."

"One through five, right," Daniel asked. "Is there a reason why we're getting these details if this took place three years ago?"

"There's a very good reason, Daniel," Carter confirmed. The screen changed to show a boy of about fifteen. He was of slim build with dark hair, and Japanese features, although he could have passed for European at a pinch. "Heero Yuy, although it is suspected that this is his code-name, Pilot 01."

"For crying out loud!" Jack was not impressed. "This kid is the pilot? What the hell is wrong with these people, sending their children to fight their wars for them?" So far, he hadn't seen anything to endear him to these Colonists. 

"He may look like a child, O'Neill," Teal'c reminded him, "but that does not mean that he acts as one. He was probably trained from birth for such a task; appearances are often deceiving." 

"In this case, very deceiving," Carter confirmed. "According to the information here, Yuy destroyed a shuttle carrying the Alliance pacifist leaders. He is also known for leading strikes against mobile suit warehouses and production facilities, using high-powered explosives. On at least one occasion, the damage spread into a civilian area, killing men, women and children. He seems to have little regard for human life and is considered highly volatile.  The information states that the soldiers are advised to shoot to kill. "

The screen changed again to show another boy; this one had a long braid and was dressed in a priest's garb. "Duo Maxwell, Pilot 02. His Gundam is known as Deathscythe." 

"He can't be more than fifteen either," Janet shook her head. "I don't like the conclusions I'm drawing from this, General." Jack didn't blame her; the whole scenario filled him with disgust. 

"Duo?" Daniel frowned. "That's Latin for two. And Heero…" 

"Dr. Jackson," Hammond warned. 

"It's okay," Daniel waved a hand. "I'll wait till Sam's finished. This must be a co-incidence. I can't believe that…" He shook his head. "Keep going; don't mind me." 

"Maxwell has also been known to refer to himself as Shinigami, the Japanese god of death. He took out a mobile suit factory in Guam…"

"So the place names and continents /are/ the same as ours." Daniel interrupted again; he ignored the glare that Jack gave him. "I'm working on a theory concerning that, but I'll share later."  

"He took out a mobile suit factory in Guam," Carter repeated, "and later destroyed OZ troops attempting to retrieve important equipment. Considered highly dangerous; approach with extreme caution even if he appears to be unconscious."

"OZ?" Hammond asked.

Carter consulted her notes. "Order of the Zodiac; another military group within the Alliance, General." She glanced around the room before continuing. "02 attacked an Alliance hospital and planted explosives. He showed obvious disregard for the safety of the patients."

"Fun guys," Jack commented. 

Another boy's image took the place of Maxwell's. "Chang Wufei, Pilot 05," Sam began. "Gundam Shenlong."

"Excuse me, Carter, but can't you count?" Jack snorted. "The last time I looked three comes after two; it's then followed by four and /then/ five." 

"Begging your pardon, Sir," Carter's tone was polite, but it was obvious that she hadn't appreciated the interruption. "I do realise that; the reason for the information being relayed out of order will become clear shortly." 

"Right," Jack nodded. "I'll just sit here with bated breath, shall I?" 

"Chang," Carter said, indicating the Chinese pilot, "obliterated the OZ training facility at Lake Victoria. He struck before dawn, catching the students unaware and wiping them out before they had a chance to begin active service. After joining a traitorous rebel force within the Alliance, he used his Gundam to help the rebels to destroy even more Alliance troops. Highly skilled in unarmed combat; lack of weaponry does not make him any the less deadly. " 

"Honourable sort, isn't he?" Jack commented. These pilots needed lessons on decent human behaviour and a good kick in the ass. 

"Pilot 03," Carter continued. "Gundam Heavyarms." 

"Pilot's name?" Daniel prompted. "Although I know I'm really not going to like this." He pushed his glasses up his nose, took a swig of cold coffee and frowned.

"Trowa Barton…" The next picture was too damn familiar for comfort. The boy portrayed was definitely younger, but there was no mistaking who he was. 

"You're kidding me, right?" Jack was not impressed, although it made one hell of a lot of sense. The weaponry that the kids had carried, Quatre being comfortable with the gun, their reluctance to share information about themselves and, of course, Frasier's report regarding their enhanced physiology. 

"No, Sir, I'm not. He's a Gundam pilot." Carter glanced down at her notes. "His real name is unknown; the original Trowa Barton, heir to the Barton Foundation, was murdered and his killer never discovered."

"I wonder why." Jack couldn't believe that he'd allowed himself to be taken for such a ride. These kids were good; he'd give them that. 

"Barton, or whatever his name is, attempted to self-destruct his Gundam under the circus big top during a special performance for OZ troops. Fortunately, he failed. 03 also infiltrated OZ ranks, leaked sensitive information to the rebels and worked to undermine OZ and Alliance command within the troops. He is a mercenary who plays both sides. " 

Daniel broke the silence. "Let me guess; Quatre is French for four, so it follows that Quatre is pilot 04. All of their names mean numbers, and more specifically the same numbers as both their Gundams and colonies. I wonder if any of them are using their real names, or whether there is some significance to it that I'm missing?"

"The significance you're missing, Daniel, is that these kids are killers who appear to have no regard for life." Despite the tone in his voice, Jack's anger wasn't directed towards Daniel; he was angry at himself. 

"Appearances can be deceiving," Daniel argued, "and history has a habit of being written by the victor." He waved towards the screen. "Sam, tell us what Quatre did. I'm sure you're dying to, or otherwise you wouldn't have left him till last." 

The room went quiet and Daniel glanced around sheepishly. "I'm sorry, that was out of line. I guess I'm just shocked. I've spent time getting to know these kids, and I can't believe that this can be true." He shook his head. "And is it just me, or is all this information regarding the history of their world, plus their technology being available on one very handy CD just a little too much of a coincidence?" 

"I thought that at first too, Daniel," Carter admitted, "but from what I can tell, this CD /does/ appear to be set up to do just that. Propaganda or educational?" She shrugged. "It's difficult to say…"  
  


"It could even be a sales pitch for their new improved ZERO system," Jack threw in his own two cents worth.

"Anything is possible, Sir," Carter agreed. She replaced Trowa's picture with that of the remaining pilot. It wasn't a surprise to see a younger version of Quatre's face staring back at them. "Quatre Raberba Winner, pilot 04. Gundam Sandrock. Quatre Winner disobeyed his father's wishes and chose to pilot a Gundam for a faction of rebels in the Middle East, destroying Alliance equipment and bases. It is presumed that his actions convinced his father to rebel against the ambassadors of OZ by cutting off supplies and putting the residents of L4 at risk. OZ was forced to deal with the threat by employing extreme measures. After losing his Gundam and witnessing the death of his father, 04 built and piloted Wing Zero, using the enhanced ability system code-named ZERO. He proceeded to destroy several colonies and an uncalculated number of military units sent to restrain him. Considered unstable and highly dangerous."  

"He has ties to the Middle East?" Hammond had noticed it too. No wonder Carter had left pilot 04 until last. 

Daniel didn't seem surprised. "That explains his knowledge of Arabic," he surmised. 

"There's one more thing I haven't mentioned," Carter admitted,  "which corroborates the information on the CD."

"Which is?" Jack kept his tone even; he didn't want to believe what he had just been told, but he couldn't afford not to with the safety of the SGC at stake. 

"The knives that I thought might have been made of Gundanium," Carter nodded towards the picture on the screen. "They are engraved with their pilot designations." 

****

End of Chapter Four

TBC


	5. Chapter Five

The Road to OZ (5/?)

by Anne Olsen

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover.

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5S.   
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Archive: 

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

Thanks to the beta team: Bast, haraamis, Spaceseeker and Anon. Also to Misanagi and Shadow for their input and support.

Comments to: anneo 

============================================================

Chapter Five

Wufei glared at the radio. "It's useless." His ears were still ringing from the loud burst of static that had interrupted his last transmission. "It appears as though we are on our own, at least until Yuy and Maxwell arrive."

"I wonder if the dampening field was already in place or whether your radio activated it," Sally pondered. "Neither scenario bodes well."

"So much for the deserted satellite theory," Wufei agreed. He and Sally had entered the satellite without any problems, but Wufei had an uneasy feeling that they were playing fly to an extremely well organised spider. They had found Quatre and Trowa's shuttle quickly - all Preventer shuttles were equipped with a homing device - but so far there was no sign of its pilots. Either the Preventer agents were being held somewhere, and hopefully had not been moved yet, or had thus far managed to evade capture.

Both were viable options.

Turning at the slight pressure on his shoulder, Wufei nodded when Sally placed a finger to her lips and unsheathed her gun. While it was preferable to deal with this threat without gunfire in order to avoid drawing unwanted attention, it was sensible to be prepared.

Footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, growing louder as they approached Wufei and Sally's hiding place. Wufei glanced around, looking for an escape route but was unable to find one. Unfortunately, it appeared that their plan to remain unnoticed would have to be abandoned.

"Lose something, gentlemen?" Wufei asked, stepping into the path of the three heavily armed men. They hesitated for a moment; that hesitation was their downfall. Wufei used a spinning kick against the first man, connecting his foot with the side of his opponent's head before the man had an opportunity to block it. He went flying, crashing against the nearest wall and sliding to the floor. The remaining two men exchanged a nervous look, and then one of them charged. Wufei snorted in disgust before grabbing one of them under the armpit and throwing him forward, while at the same time hooking his leg around his opponent's. The man hit the ground with a thump.

Sally neatly sidestepped the other soldier when he attacked, giving him a good kick in the behind to help him on his way. As he stumbled, she raised her gun and hit him over the head. Wufei winced, in spite of himself, at the loud crack of metal against bone.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," he muttered. Sally grinned at him; she had always been a good fighter, and Wufei was in no danger of forgetting that she could be counted on to provide satisfactory backup.

After using their prisoners' belts and ties to secure them, the Preventer agents made their way to the end of the corridor. It was only a matter of time before their captives would be missed; if Trowa and Quatre were still on the satellite they needed to be found quickly.

Voices were heard on the other side of the connecting door. Wufei ducked into a crouch, and raised his weapon, ready to defend himself against whoever was there. Pressing herself against the wall behind the other door, Sally did the same.

"Did you see that weird water effect?" The voices grew louder. "I know the Colonel isn't impressed that he's lost those Gundam pilots, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to go anywhere near that thing."

"Maybe they're dead?" His companion wondered. "Whoever those army types were who took the pilots, they meant business." He sighed. "It's fortunate that 01 has kindly decided to act as a substitute…"

"He's not here yet," the first man said.

"Yet." The other man laughed. "That word has such potential, don't you think?"

"Not as much potential as…" Their voices trailed off as they moved away, and Wufei was unable to make out the rest of the conversation.

"I guess that answers one question," Sally said after checking if the corridor beyond the door was empty. "I wonder who those 'army types' that they referred to were. If they were able to capture two ex-Gundam pilots, they sound like a formidable enemy." She glanced at Wufei.

"Unless they simply moved in and finished what these people had started." Wufei frowned. "If Barton and Winner were already restrained…" Or worse, his mind helpfully supplied, but he ignored it. "What did he mean by a substitute? A substitute for what?"

"Or for who." Sally frowned. "It appears that Duo's theory was right. This was a trap carefully designed to catch Gundam pilots. But I wonder…if Heero is a substitute, would it be for Quatre or Trowa? The breadcrumb trail, as Duo put it so succinctly at the briefing, was for both of them."

"But if they need two pilots, why did those men only mention Heero?" Wufei made sure that the next corridor was empty and they moved forward again, taking care to keep their voices low.

"I don't know," Sally admitted. "But when Heero arrives he won't be alone, will he? Duo is with him, and you're with me. If they need Gundam pilots for whatever they have planned, we're supplying them with a full set."

Wufei rolled his eyes. "We may be on the premises, but that doesn't mean that we're going to surrender." Noticing a door to their left, with a convenient yet dirty window to the side of it, Wufei wondered what the room it led to contained. Rubbing the window clean with the sleeve of his jacket, he peered cautiously inside. "A store room," he muttered. It was completely empty and appeared to have been that way for some time.

"They're concentrating their forces on a specific area." Sally voiced what Wufei had concluded. "Whatever they are working on, they're extremely sloppy at protecting their rear. We could use that to our advantage."

"Unless that's what they are counting on," Wufei paused, his mind working through possible scenarios. "There are different methods available to bait a trap; the further away we move from the docking area, the more distance we put between ourselves and our way out." He retrieved a small electronic device from his pocket and ran a check for hidden cameras or other security devices. "We don't appear to have tripped any alarms, or at least not any that this is familiar with. According to the schematics, there used to be a control area in the direction the men we overpowered came from. I suggest we check that out instead of wasting time investigating empty rooms."

"It sounds sensible," Sally agreed. "I'd also like to take a look at that 'thing' those men referred to. Do you think it might be the weapon we're searching for?"

"It could be," Wufei pondered. They began walking briskly; they would take things more cautiously once they grew closer, but it was only a matter of time before the men they had overpowered were discovered. Hopefully, there would be some way of disengaging the dampening field so that they could get a warning to Heero and Duo before the second Preventer shuttle arrived. "It's very likely that only those in charge of the project know of the weapon's capability, and that's why the men we overheard reacted to it the way they did. What did they mean by a water effect though?" He sighed. "I'm visualising some kind of waterfall in space and that makes no sense at all."

"No, it doesn't." Sally stopped, tilting her head to the side. "I can hear voices."

"They're coming from over there," Wufei confirmed, as they both ducked down and out of sight. He frowned, trying to remember what was supposed to be in that direction. Some kind of hangar if his memory served him right, used for the repair of shuttles and other large equipment.

After waiting several minutes, Wufei came to a decision. Heero and Duo's shuttle was due shortly; they were running out of time. It was a calculated risk but one he deemed necessary. The mission was not only to retrieve Quatre and Trowa, but to discover any pertinent information regarding the threat against the hard won peace. Creeping forward, with Sally again covering him from behind, Wufei carefully edged his way towards the hanger. As he drew closer, the voices grew louder.

"It's not quite the same as the original but then these blueprints have been somewhat modified."

"And of course now we've had to modify the system still further." There was a snort. "These people are idiots, but then we can only do so much with the resources we have."

"This weapon is nothing without the pilots." The man sounded smug. "They are crucial to its success although I doubt they will co-operate freely."

"Of course not. It's a shame really. But what else can one do when given these options?"

Leaving Sally to keep watch and taking care to stay in the shadows, Wufei cautiously slipped into the hanger through the partially open door. Instead of the large open space he was expecting, he found himself in a control room overlooking the hanger itself.

The two men were still absorbed in their conversation. Both wore white coats and had their back to him. He wondered if they were the scientists involved in the design of this weapon, whatever it was.

There had to be a clue as to what it could be, somewhere on the satellite and this was as good a place to start as any. Tightening his grip on his gun, Wufei edged further forward to get a better look and then darted back again as a soldier entered through a side door, exchanged a few words with the white coated men, and then left again. One of the scientists shook his head, but it was difficult to tell whether it was in anger or disgust.

"They have no idea how much precision is involved," he grumbled. "If the calibrations aren't exactly right, their wonderful plan won't work."

"Their wonderful plan?" His companion laughed. "If it wasn't for us they would be still planning that ridiculous scheme. I can't believe that they thought it ever had a chance of success."

Under different circumstances Wufei might have felt a small degree of amusement at the arrogance of the two, but for some reason their words sent a shiver of anticipation through him. What the hell was this weapon that needed precise calibrations, and what part did they expect his friends to play? Maybe it was some kind of remote piloting apparatus? He smirked, doubting that they realised just /how/ difficult it would be to get any of the pilots to agree to work with them. They hadn't fought so hard for peace just to give it up for these idiots.

"It was extremely fortuitous of me to keep a copy of these plans," the scientist continued.

"Oh yes," the taller man replied. "You and your copies of plans. I still can't believe that you left those where your boy could find them. We were extremely lucky."

"What makes you think that wasn't intentional? I knew that he could handle it, even then; it wasn't my fault that events conspired to alter his view of the …"

The scientists began walking towards the door through which the soldier had left, their voices more difficult to hear as they moved further away. Waiting until he was alone in the room, Wufei quickly walked over to the observation window. If he could just get a look at whatever was there before his presence was discovered, this mission wouldn't be a total loss. From what he had seen and heard so far, these men were disorganised and sloppy; they shouldn't be much of a match for a Gundam pilot.

The hanger was dimly lit; Wufei searched the control panel in front of him and managed to increase the lighting enough to help his vision, but hopefully not enough to raise any alarm. Pressing closer to the glass, he noticed a large object taking centre stage.

He frowned. The shape seemed familiar. Too familiar. Taking a moment to weigh up the pros and cons he decided that it was worth the risk to see more clearly. Increasing the lighting a fraction more, he turned his attention back to the hanger and froze, not wanting to believe what he saw. Reverting to his native tongue, he swore under his breath.

Standing in front of him was an almost completed Gundam Wing Zero.

Quatre stretched out his legs on the cot and, linking his hands and placing them behind his head, closed his eyes. He had a headache, and not knowing why he and Trowa had been escorted from the guest quarters to separate cells was doing nothing to help his growing unease.

He had enjoyed talking to Daniel; the older man was intelligent, had a good sense of humour and seemed to genuinely enjoy the conversation. Although Daniel's replies had been guarded, Quatre had managed to discern quite a bit of information before Daniel had remembered the time and left to attend a meeting.

There had not been the opportunity for him and Trowa to talk privately since they had arrived. Colonel O'Neill's trust of them only seemed to go so far, and although he had given permission for their restraints to be removed in the infirmary, the armed guards were constant companions. But then, Quatre didn't blame him and would have done the same if their roles had been reversed. He and Trowa had been careful not to give any information about their mission apart from what Nichol had been careless enough to let slip. O'Neill hadn't referred to the fact that they were Gundam pilots, and they had only answered the questions that he had asked.

After the initial conversation with Daniel, Quatre had been puzzling over the possibilities that they had somehow been transported to an Earth that wasn't their own. He smiled ruefully. It had been arrogance on his part to expect Daniel to recognise the Winner name; of all the times in the past that he had wished for some degree of anonymity, the one time it had happened, it had thrown him off balance.

What were the differences between this world and their own? The Stargate seemed to act as some kind of portal between the two; hopefully it would possible to use it for a return journey. It was tempting to stay here; an opportunity for him and Trowa to start a new life together without the responsibilities of WEI to deal with, or the need to look over their shoulders, waiting for their past actions to catch up with them. He wasn't naïve enough to think that they wouldn't be able to hide their identities as Gundam pilots forever and although they had fought for peace, it had been at a high price. Loss of life was always too high a price to pay but even though Quatre had tried to give his opponents the opportunity to surrender, it hadn't always been possible.

He sighed and shifted on the cot, trying to find a compromise between getting comfortable and staying alert.

Reaching out with his empathic sense, he smiled again.

/Restlessness, concern, relief/

Trowa wasn't enjoying this enforced captivity anymore than Quatre was. Trowa might project an outward calm but Quatre knew him well enough to know that these surroundings, although better than the conditions in which they had been held in the past, would be unsettling him too.

Giving up on his attempt to rest, Quatre pulled himself into a sitting position and swung his legs back over the side of the cot. The cell was small but clean. Apart from the cot, there was also a basin in the corner and a metal toilet. In the left corner was a table with a lamp and in the other corner, a large storage unit. The door to the cell was secured both electronically and by a standard lock. Neither would be a problem as his lock picks hadn't been discovered, but for the moment he would give the appearance of being co-operative until he could learn more about the SGC.

However, his immediate concern was why they had been moved to higher security accommodation. Something must have happened for these people to suddenly view them as an increased risk to their security, but Quatre couldn't figure out what.

He shook his head, and grimaced at the pain. Ever since the Stargate had engaged, he'd felt a familiar uneasiness that he couldn't place. Waking to Trowa's concern, plus fading snatches of a nightmare, which he had thought he had put behind him, only served to make it more difficult to ignore that uneasiness. Quatre rubbed at his temples again. Damn this headache; he needed to keep his head clear if he was going to find a way out.

Voices outside his prison interrupted his reverie, and Quatre forced himself to ignore the pain in his head and focus on the task at hand. The door of the cell opened, and Jack and Daniel entered. Quatre gave them a polite nod after the door closed behind them. "Hello, Colonel. Daniel. Nice to see you again." He stood and held out his hand.

Jack ignored it. "Sit down, 04." His voice was sharp, and there was a coldness in his eyes.

How could Jack know of his pilot designation? Remembering that Nichol had referred to him as 04, and yelled to his men to stop the escaping Gundam pilots, Quatre surmised that that must be the source of his information. But did Jack know what a Gundam was? Quatre had no idea if they had anything similar on this world. He withdrew his hand slowly and remained standing. "My name is Quatre," he replied. "I would prefer you to address me as such rather than as 04."

The two men exchanged a glance, and then Daniel spoke slowly. "So you're not going to deny that you are a Gundam pilot?"

"Why deny the truth?" Quatre frowned at the mixture of anger and disgust he could feel coming from the two men he had hoped could have the potential to be friends.

"I thought I told you to sit," Jack repeated.

"I'd prefer to stand," Quatre stated, firmly. "Am I being interrogated, Colonel? I assure you that Trowa and I mean you no harm."

Jack snorted. "Give me one good reason why I should believe that."

"You're still alive, and we haven't attempted to escape." Quatre deliberately left off the word yet.

"And for that I'm supposed to be grateful?" Jack didn't seem convinced. "We saved your asses out there; you owe us some straight answers in return for the privilege."

"Do I?" Quatre sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall. This interrogation was going to take a while, and he still wasn't feeling one hundred per cent. He sighed. "What do you want to know, Colonel?" Apparent co-operation would increase the potential for discovering what was behind their change in attitude. "And I apologise for my rudeness. Please, ask what you wish and I'll answer them to the best of my ability."

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you tell me that you were a Gundam pilot, Quatre?"

"You didn't ask." Quatre gave him a strained smile. "I know I've done things I'm not proud of, but what we did was important." He paused. "Do you even know what a Gundam is, Daniel?"

"Oh, yes we've been very well informed, " Jack paused. "Your friend kindly supplied us with a handy reference guide."

"Trowa?" Quatre shook his head. "Colonel, we both know that your source of information wasn't him. You tell me what you think you know, and I'll tell you whether that information is correct." The only other option was that somehow Nichol and his men had followed them through the Stargate, but Quatre doubted it. He remembered all too well feeling several deaths before he'd given into the sedative. The iris that had closed over the gate after they had arrived had been very efficient at keeping unwanted intruders out.

"Suit yourself." Jack shrugged. "I'm quite happy to play twenty questions. Daniel?"

"Jack," Daniel replied automatically; he seemed deep in thought. "Right, sure." He cleared his throat. "You were Pilot 04, and Trowa, Pilot 03." It wasn't phrased as a question so Quatre didn't answer it. "How could you justify killing all those people?"

"I couldn't." Quatre spoke quietly. It wasn't something that he was proud of. "I still can't. It's something I will always regret. We fought so that others didn't have to, but…" He shook his head. "Total Pacifism only works if you're prepared to roll over and die. I wasn't. I couldn't sit and do nothing."

"Yeah well, doing nothing isn't really your thing, is it?" Jack perched himself on the end of the bed. "We're not talking about a fun walk in the park here. I'm military, Quatre. I understand that sometimes in a war, there are casualties on both sides but…"

"There don't have to be," Daniel interrupted. "There's this little thing called negotiation which can sometimes work…"

Jack glared at him.

"Or not," Daniel finished. "If it moves, shoot it. You can learn a lot more from a live person than a dead body, you know." It appeared as though Daniel wasn't of a military mindset. Quatre filed that information for later use.

"Thanks, Daniel. I'll remember that next time an unfriendly decides that my head might look great as a centrepiece on their dinner table."

"Actually very few societies practice cannibalism." Daniel rolled his eyes. "In fact if you look at their cultural and social…" His voice trailed off after Jack coughed loudly and gave him a pointed look. "So is Quatre your real name, or a code name like 04?" Daniel moved away from the wall and pulled himself on the table.

"It's my real name," Quatre told him. Although Daniel and Jack had relaxed their posture, he knew that they were merely switching tactics. He'd handled many interrogations the same way, and he had no intention of letting down his guard. "As I told you earlier, I'm named after my mother. I haven't lied to you, Daniel."

"Yeah, but you've got sidestepping answers down to an art form." Jack shook his head.

"I find it difficult to believe that it's a co-incidence." Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose. "Unless it's the way things are done on your world. What about the rest of your family? Do their names translate to numbers in different languages too?"

Quatre laughed. "No. I don't think my sisters would have been terribly impressed by that. They're rather fond of their individuality." It had taken him months to track down all of his sisters after the war. Meeting Iria for the first time before their father's death had made him realise that there was so much about his family that he didn't know.

"Big family?" Jack asked.

"You could say that." Quatre smiled. If Jack thought that switching the conversation temporarily away from the Gundams might get results, Quatre was more than happy to play along. "I have twenty-nine older sisters."

He was amused by the silence that followed. "What else did..?" His voice trailed off at the sudden pain in his chest. Instinctively he brought his hand up to rub at it, but remembering where he was, he gripped the side of the blanket he was sitting on instead.

/Anger. Concern. Protectiveness./

The emotions flared and then died away to nothing. Quatre reached out to Trowa empathically, but instead of the reassuring presence he'd felt on the edge of his mind since the first time they'd slept together, there was a disturbing void. What the hell was going on?

Quatre rose to his feet, trying to control a sudden wave of anger. "If you want to ask me something, go ahead." His voice was cold; he was struggling to keep himself calm and under control. Had something happened to Trowa? Was that why he couldn't feel him? Had Jack's colleagues decided to use other means of interrogation? Trowa had a tendency to be stubborn and extremely uncooperative when he put his mind to it.

"Quatre, are you okay?" Daniel slid off the table and took the couple of steps over to the bed.

"You tell me," Quatre replied. "Look, gentlemen. I think it's time to cut the crap. You appear to have information regarding our part in the wars. If you tell me the source of that information, I'll attempt to fill in the blanks." He shook his head when Daniel attempted to come closer. "As I said before, I know that you didn't get the information from Trowa. If you want co-operation you'll get further if the flow of information goes both ways."

"You're in no position to make demands," Jack said. "And you expect us to trust you when you've obviously been lying? For crying out loud, give me a break."

"I haven't been lying." Quatre met Jack's gaze directly, his mind searching for an escape route. Depending on the number of guards stationed outside he might be able to get so far, but this was a military facility and no doubt heavily guarded. When he and Trowa had been moved he'd noted the level numbers in the lift - the infirmary had been level 21, the guest quarters 25, and they were now on level 16. Were those levels above or below ground? So far he hadn't seen any windows but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Either way, escape would be difficult but not impossible.

"You haven't been exactly telling the truth either." Jack matched Quatre's glare. "Or weren't you going to mention those colonies you destroyed, or your alliance with Middle Eastern rebels? Or did the lives of the civilians you killed matter so little that you dismissed them without another thought?"

How the hell did he know about that?

"I didn't…" Quatre forced himself to stay calm. Snatches of his nightmare replayed through his mind, but he tried to ignore it. /I can't react, not now./ "I didn't dismiss them. I've never forgotten. I wasn't…." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I warned them first, told them to evacuate. I didn't want to…" He gave himself a mental kick. "As for your comments about Middle Eastern rebels, the Maguanac Corps are good people that I am proud to call friends." His eyes flashed. "Don't presume to know what our world is like. It's dangerous to make assumptions based on faulty information."

"I only have your word that the information is faulty," Jack said. "How the hell do I know that those assumptions are faulty? What you tell us could just as likely be a twisted version of the truth. It's my judgement call, and I'm the one calling the shots."

"How do you explain your knowledge of Arabic?" Daniel asked. He seemed curious.

"As I said," explained Quatre, feeling more confident now that, information wise, he was on more solid ground. "You have no idea what our world is like. My family is originally from the Middle East; L4 is a predominately Arabian colony."

"You're Arabian?" Jack looked at him in disbelief. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but you're blond and fair. Stop playing me for a damn fool. I don't appreciate it."

"Well actually, Jack, he could be throw-back to the days of the British Empire." Daniel coughed. "It's not that unlikely that one of Quatre's ancestors could have been British, especially when you consider just how far the influence of the Empire stretched back in the days when…"

"I get the idea already." Jack said. "Okay, so you might be telling the truth about that one, but what about the rest of it? I'd like to trust you, but I can't. Not after what I've seen."

"Seen where?" Quatre asked. "You didn't see enough in that storeroom to draw any conclusions. If I knew the source of your information at least I could give my…our side of the story. Every war has two sides, Colonel. And those two sides paint very different pictures of what they deem to be the truth." He paused. "Yes, we were terrorists, and we made mistakes, but we fought for peace and tried to make a difference. I hope we did make a difference." He waited for a moment, trying to judge their reaction. Daniel appeared thoughtful, Jack unsure although he was hiding it.

/I can feel their reactions,/ Quatre realised. He closed his eyes momentarily and reached out empathically for Trowa, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt an answering caress against his mind. Something must have interfered with his ability, but what? Could it be something at the SGC, something on this world that he wasn't familiar with?

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"I'm fine," Quatre lied. "I have a slight headache, nothing serious." In fact his headache had disappeared; it was unfortunate that it hadn't taken his unease with it. Although Quatre wanted Jack to trust him, he was only prepared to go so far when it came to exchanging information. Quatre saw no need to tell anyone about either his empathy or his and Trowa's relationship. Both could be exploited.

"Right." There was still a hint of disbelief in Jack's voice. Quatre decided to ignore it.

"You can't go in there, Sir." Jack and Daniel exchanged a glance after hearing the voices outside the door.

The door swung open and a man entered. He was dressed in some kind of uniform, medals adorning the front of his jacket, and a smug smile on his face. He dipped his hat in greeting to Jack who groaned. "Nice to see you too, Jack. Doctor Jackson."

"Maybourne." Jack didn't look up or return the pleasantries. "I wonder what idiot we can thank for this," he muttered.

"Good evening, young man." Maybourne shifted his attention onto Quatre. "I've heard a lot about you and your friend, and I'm looking forward to getting better acquainted. I do hope that Colonel O'Neill has made you feel welcome and not inflicted you with his…annoying habits."

"Looked in a mirror lately, Maybourne?" Jack didn't seem impressed by the man at all. "But then you wouldn't want to shatter the glass, would you?"

"Charming as ever, Jack, I see." Although Maybourne answered the question, he kept looking at Quatre. The man was curious, but it was a curiosity mixed with anticipation. "I don't think we've had the pleasure yet, and as Jack apparently has forgotten his manners once again, it looks as though it's down to me to handle the introductions." He held out his hand and Quatre forced himself to shake it. He had met people like this Maybourne before; they were not people he enjoyed dealing with. "I didn't catch your name, young man."

"Quatre Winner," Quatre responded politely, his upbringing kicking in to override his reaction. "And who do I have the displeasure of meeting?"

Maybourne smiled. "Colonel Harry Maybourne, NID. I'm sure we're going to enjoy doing business together."

End of Chapter Five

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

The Road to OZ (6?)

by Anne

Ratings/warnings: OK (Oz/Kiwi spelling/grammar etc) – PG13 – Action, drama, angst. Gundam Wing/Stargate SG1 xover.

Pairings: - Gundam Wing: 3x4, 1x2, 5+S.  
- Stargate SG1: Non specific (at this stage although this may change as the story progresses.)

Summary: When a gateway is unintentionally opened, two unrelated missions become one desperate struggle for survival. SG1 and the Gundam pilots must join forces to take control of a weapon that could affect the future of both their worlds.

Archive: http/dryerspace. Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the boys in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any physical injury or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Stargate SG1 are owned by Stargate (ll) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Products.

Thanks to the beta team: Bast, Hex, haraamis and Spaceseeker. Also to Misanagi and Linda for their input and support.

Comments to: anne Six

"Back off, Maybourne," Jack muttered under his breath. From the corner of his eye, he saw Quatre grimace and heard him mutter a comment under his breath.

"You wound me," Maybourne sniffed. "I'm merely showing /my/ good manners and introducing myself to the boy."

"I don't remember inviting you to the party," Jack said.

"He does this often?" Quatre asked him, raising an eyebrow. His expression wasn't that of surprise but of resignation.

"Colonel O'Neill doesn't like to share," Maybourne said, eyes darting between Jack and Quatre. Maybourne might be an idiot, but he was still a dangerous idiot. There was no way in hell that Jack was prepared to release these boys into Maybourne's care.

"Quatre is our guest," Daniel said, interjecting into the conversation. "The NID has no…"

"Oh, I assure you, Dr. Jackson," Maybourne said, "that we have every right." He smiled, and Jack fought the urge to punch his lights out. "I'm sure Senator Kinsey will see my point of view." Maybourne's eyes narrowed. "As much as you would like to believe that you have control over everything that comes through the gate, that assumption is erroneous."

He took a step closer to Quatre and smiled again. The kid took a step backwards. "I've been looking forward to meeting you and your friend, young man. You'll find that we take care of our…" He paused, glaring over at Daniel. Daniel straightened his glasses and glared back. "Guests." Maybourne ignored the glare. "Tsk tsk, Jack. Throwing children into cells as though they were dangerous terrorists. I'm surprised at you."

/Damn/ Jack thought. /Son of a bitch knows something./

Quatre's looked up sharply at Maybourne's words. "Colonel O'Neill has acted no differently than I would have in this situation." His words were matter-of-fact.

"And what situation would that be? Exactly?" Maybourne asked.

Quatre smiled. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to share that information." He paused. "And I would prefer my present accommodation to those you offer."

"Unfortunately, it's not up to you," Maybourne retorted.

"But it /is/ up to me." Hammond was annoyed, although his tone was polite. Jack hadn't seen him enter, but nothing got past the old man, especially when it concerned the SGC.

Maybourne smiled. "Your authority only extends so far." Jack rolled his eyes.

"It extends far enough, Colonel," Hammond replied.

"We'll see," Maybourne said. He gave Jack a curt nod. Jack didn't bother replying. "I really must be off."

"What a shame," Jack muttered under his breath just a little too loudly.

Maybourne shrugged, adjusting his hat. "You really need to work on your manners, Jack." He held out his hand to Quatre again. The kid ignored him. "I can see you've spent too much time here already. We'll have to do something about that."

"Over my dead body, Maybourne." While Jack wasn't sure what to believe about these kids, he would be the one to discover the truth, not Maybourne. The NID weren't exactly known for their warmth and hospitality, and, terrorists or not, Quatre and Trowa were still kids. For the moment, he'd shove aside his doubts about them. It didn't mean he trusted or believed them, but he trusted Maybourne even less. There were also bonus points in the fact that this would sure as hell piss Maybourne off.

"Interesting offer." Maybourne's smile became even less convincing. "Gentlemen," he said and nodded. Half way through the door to the cell he paused and looked back at Quatre. "Nice meeting you, young man, although I suggest you work on those manners."

A half-pained expression flashed momentarily through Quatre's eyes and his lips pursed. He said something that Jack couldn't understand in a low tone. Daniel, who was standing closer, turned an interesting shade of red. Whatever the kid had said, Jack figured it had been rather more than an educated guess about Maybourne's parentage. Definitely one to ask Daniel about, and file for later use/if /Daniel could be persuaded to share.

"Good day, Colonel." Hammond gave Jack a warning look before he could add his two cents worth.

Jack grinned at Maybourne. "What he said. Enjoy it while you can."

Trowa stopped pacing at the sound of voices outside the cell door. Although he was aware that he was giving a good impression of a caged animal, he had no intention of showing his true reaction to the current situation. Lacing his fingers together, he leaned back against the wall near the cot and folded his arms against his chest.

The door opened and two people entered. He didn't recognise either of them.

The blonde woman spoke first. "I'm Major Samantha Carter. This is Teal'c." She gave him a nod and held out her hand in greeting.

The man beside her inclined his head. He was tall, his build reminding Trowa of Rashid. On his forehead was a gold symbol, and he and the Major were both dressed in green trousers and a t-shirt. Field uniform? Trowa wondered, remembering that O'Neill and Dr. Jackson had been similarly attired when they had visited him and Quatre in the infirmary.

"Trowa Barton." Trowa had already shared that information, so he saw no harm in stating it again. He made no effort to move and shake Carter's hand. Quatre would have, but he wasn't Quatre.

"We've met before," Carter continued brightly, "in the storeroom on your world, but you were unconscious at the time."

Trowa nodded. O'Neill had mentioned her name. Trowa hoped that their knives would be returned. It was all that he had left of his Gundam and although he wouldn't admit to being sentimental about that fact, his knife had been engraved with Quatre's pilot designation.

"How long do you intend to hold us here?" Trowa frowned, feeling his sense of Quatre grow suddenly stronger as his partner reached out for him empathically. Quatre was uneasy, which was never a good sign, and that uneasiness was increasing the longer they remained on this world. Outwardly, Quatre seemed calm and in control, and Trowa had no doubt that the blond was already calculating scenarios to enable them to extract themselves from this situation. However, something had happened to throw Quatre off balance, and although he had insisted that he was okay, Trowa knew that he wasn't.

"How long do you intend to withhold information?" Carter countered.

"That would depend on the information you presume I'm withholding." Trowa kept his tone even. "We've already spoken to Colonel O'Neill and Dr. Jackson." He uncrossed his arms but continued leaning against the wall.

"What is your real name?" Teal'c's expression matched Trowa's own, as did his tone.

"I've already told you that you can call me Trowa Barton." Trowa struggled to hide his reaction to the question. What the hell had initiated /that?

"That may be the name you're using, but we know it's not who you are." Carter paused. "03."

"You have no idea who I am." Trowa shrugged. "Names from our world mean nothing in yours." It was true. Daniel had not realised the significance of the Winner name, so why should they be interested in a name borrowed from a dead man?

"We know that you and your friend are Gundam pilots," Carter continued.

Trowa raised an eyebrow. Quatre would not have shared that information without reason, but then Nichol had already been aware of their identities before they had walked into his trap. Trowa had never trusted the man, even during the war, and Nichol had been suspicious of Trowa from the moment he had joined OZ. "And your point is?"

"We all act in ways we are not proud of, Trowa Barton," Teal'c said. "But a true warrior acts with honour."

"Define honour," Trowa said quietly.

"How would you define it?" Carter seemed genuinely interested in Trowa's answer. "Destroying colonies? Attacking off duty soldiers?"

"It is dangerous to judge events and people that you have little to no knowledge of." Trowa's voice grew cold. Whatever the source of information was, it appeared to be one-sided and most probably from an OZ sympathiser. "Not everyone has the luxury of being a 'true warrior'." Trowa paused and looked directly at Teal'c. "War is a dirty business and soldiers have to make decisions for what they hope is the greater good." He shrugged. "Sometimes it is the right decision, sometimes it isn't. All soldiers have blood on their hands, whether intentional or not."

Carter and Teal'c were quiet, watching him, waiting, but for what Trowa wasn't sure.

"Everyone has to live with consequences," Trowa continued. Quatre wasn't the only one with nightmares. Trowa had simply learnt to hide his better than most. "Victory comes with a heavy price for both sides." His next words were barely more than a whisper; he wasn't even sure if he spoke them aloud. "And neither ever has the luxury of forgetting."

Teal'c seemed thoughtful. "I am surprised to hear such sentiment in one so young." He might not have fought in the war, but from the way he spoke, Trowa realised that the other man understood, that he had fought his own battles, lived with his own consequences and inability to forget. Trowa regretted that Quatre wasn't here. He would have known how to bridge the gap between them and use it to their advantage.

/Anger. Fear./

Trowa cringed from the echo of Quatre's anger and hid the movement by stretching slightly. He smiled, his mouth turning up a fraction. The idiots would learn soon enough how dangerous it was to piss off his lover.

"Where's Quatre?" he asked, keeping his tone calm as he abruptly changed the subject.

"What were you doing in the storeroom on your world?" Carter didn't answer Trowa's question.

/Guilt. Regret. Protectiveness./

Quatre was struggling to stay calm. Trowa recognised the emotions as those often connected with Quatre's nightmares.

"I asked you a question," Trowa said, hiding his own agitation. What was happening to Quatre? If these people harmed him, Trowa would…

"Your friend is fine," Carter said. She and Teal'c exchanged a glance.

"Really?" Trowa glared at her. He had spent enough time in the company of OZ to know that captors tended to have a warped definition of that word.

"Really," Carter repeated. She smiled. It did nothing to set Trowa's mind at ease.

/Anger. Worry. Concern./

"There is no need to question us separately," Trowa said, wishing not for the first time, that Quatre wouldn't insist on playing the overprotective hero. Self-preservation was not one of Quatre's strong points, especially where those he cared about were concerned. "We are not your enemies." From what information he and Quatre had managed to discover, it appeared as though these people were not connected to the original Preventers' mission.

O'Neill and his team appeared to have stumbled onto the storeroom unintentionally. How much control did they have over this Stargate? Trowa shook his head. Quatre had often expressed the desire to start over, to find a place where he had no expectations to live up to, no fear of atonement for his past actions, for /their/ past actions. The identities of the Gundam pilots were not common knowledge, but Trowa was not foolish enough to think that the information could be kept hidden forever. As he had told Teal'c, actions have consequences.

"We only have your word on that," Carter said. "How do we know that you aren't playing both sides?" She paused, no doubt to give him the chance to react. "You've done this before."

"I'm not," Trowa said simply. He did not have the energy to argue and doubted that it would do more than add to her suspicions. "What is the source of your information?"

"Are you denying its authenticity?" Teal'c asked.

"Information is often tainted by the opinions of those who provide it." Trowa reached out empathically for Quatre, trying to reassure him while trying to hide his own misgivings.

There was no response.

"It's important to hear both sides before drawing conclusions." Trowa frowned. What was happening to Quatre? Trowa still had a sense of him, but it was not like Quatre not to respond. Could something be blocking their connection? Was that even possible? There was so much about Quatre's empathic abilities that he didn't understand.

"Are you denying that you are a Gundam Pilot and a terrorist?" Carter asked.

"We fought because there was no choice," Trowa said. "Don't presume to judge where you have no right." He moved away from the wall. The cell door had been locked behind Carter and Teal'c after they had entered. Trowa had no weapons and no idea of Quatre's whereabouts.

"We have the right to protect our own, Trowa Barton," Teal'c said.

"So do I," Trowa snapped. What the hell were these people doing to Quatre? Trowa reached out again, closing his eyes in an attempt to focus. He'd grown used to the reassurance of Quatre's presence. Quatre was a capable man, well able to take care of himself, but this mission had taken several turns for the unexpected, and Trowa didn't like it.

"Are you okay?" Carter's voice cut through his thoughts. Trowa felt a brief caress against his consciousness and let out a sigh of relief.

"Fine," he said curtly, hoping that she wasn't about to ask for a definition of what he meant by /that/.

Voices outside prevented the conversation from going further. Teal'c raised an eyebrow as one voice in particular grew louder. Carter rolled her eyes and attempted to hide a groan.

"Friend?" Trowa couldn't resist asking. Neither replied. The door opened and a man entered. The uniform he wore was presumably military and his smile most definitely fake.

"Major Carter." The man tilted his hat towards her. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Colonel," Carter replied. "I wish I could say the same."

The man frowned slightly, but instead of answering her he held out his hand to Trowa. Trowa ignored it. "Come now, young man," the Colonel said, his tone showing his disapproval. "Where are your manners?"

Trowa glared at him. "Outside this cell," he muttered.

"Colonel Harry Maybourne, NID." Maybourne didn't withdraw his hand. It made him look like an idiot. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Barton."

"I don't wish I could say the same," Trowa said, "and I don't recall telling you my name."

Maybourne tapped the side of his nose. "I've just had a nice chat with your friend. Charming young man when he wants to be, I expect."

"You have no idea." Trowa adopted a bored tone to hide his annoyance. If this man was the reason for what he'd felt from Quatre, Trowa was not impressed.

"What is the purpose of your visit?" Teal'c asked. He seemed as pleased to see Maybourne as Carter.

"As direct as ever, I see." Maybourne chuckled. He glanced around the cell. "Better conditions than those I left young Winner in, but still not exactly the first class accommodations I would expect."

"Better?" Trowa took a step forward. He didn't like the insinuations Maybourne was making.

"The cells are identical," Carter said, placing a warning hand on Trowa's arm.

"If you insist, Major." Maybourne grinned at her. The coldness in his eyes confirmed Trowa's suspicions that Maybourne's manner and tone were part of an act. Trowa knew from experience just how dangerous it could be to judge someone by outward appearance and demeanor.

"I do/Colonel/." Carter placed herself between Maybourne and Trowa.

"We can offer you so much more." Maybourne ignored her and directed his next comment to Trowa. "Information is something I'm always interested in."

"Life is full of disappointments," Trowa replied.

"You'll find that I get what I want, young man," Maybourne said. "The SGC and my organisation have an understanding regarding the flow of information. I am sorely disappointed to learn that they have been disregarding that policy."

It appeared that bureaucracy was alive and well in this world too. Quatre would be overjoyed. For the first time since they had been captured, Trowa was pleased that they no longer had their Gundams. "I do not have anything you want," he told Maybourne.

Information he did not possess could not be shared. While it was true that he had worked on Heavyarms before Operation Meteor, but without plans he could not rebuild it. Quatre had built Wing Zero, but he'd had resources to draw on and the blueprints. The Gundams were gone. Even if somehow they were rebuilt, they would be useless without a pilot and neither he nor Quatre would cooperate.

"I'll be the judge of that," Maybourne said.

The cell door opened again. General Hammond entered, flanked by two armed guards. He looked annoyed. "Maybourne, I believe I told you to leave."

Maybourne shrugged. "I decided to acquaint myself with the other pilot on my way out."

Other /pilot? How much information was Maybourne privy to? Was the source the same as SG1's?

"Don't push me, Colonel," Hammond said.

"Just following orders, General." Maybourne gave Trowa a nod. "We will talk more later. I'm certain with the right incentives we could embark on a very lucrative relationship."

Trowa muttered a few choice words under his breath. Time spent in the company of Abdul had its advantages at times. Trowa had been more than interested in adding Arabic to the languages in which he could swear fluently.

Maybourne dropped his façade for a moment to glare at Trowa. "Watch your manners."

"I am," Trowa said, matching the glare with one of his own. Given the opportunity, he would show Maybourne exactly why it was not a good idea to mess with Gundam pilots.

"Colonel," Hammond interrupted, taking control of the situation. "Sergeant. Corporal. Escort Colonel Maybourne off the base."

"General." Maybourne tipped his hat, the smile back in place. "Nice seeing you again, Major. Teal'c." He began walking towards the door. "I'm sure Senator Kinsey will find my report most interesting." Maybourne looked at Trowa. "I'll be seeing you later. And your friend."

Trowa leaned back against the wall, and folded his arms. His decision was already made. If Quatre was threatened in any way, or Maybourne followed through with any of his insinuations, Trowa would kill him.

"I don't like this," Duo muttered. "First Cat and Tro disappear and now Wufei and Sally."

"They haven't disappeared," Heero said, calmly. Like Duo, his weapon was drawn, and he was examining their new surroundings warily. "They are here somewhere. We will find them."

"When did you become Mr. Optimist?" Duo asked.

"I'm merely stating facts," Heero said. The satellite appeared to be strangely empty. Suspiciously so, but he doubted that they were alone.

"Right," Duo said in the tone that usually meant he wasn't convinced. "I don't like this."

"You've already said that." Heero checked the corridor ahead and gave the all-clear sign.

"So, I'm saying it again." Duo came up beside Heero. They moved forward cautiously, taking turns to check the area ahead and provide cover. "It's just a matter of time before the resident wicked witch turns up to throw us into her oven."

Heero raised an eyebrow. Sometimes the analogies Duo made were far from logical. "It's more likely to be one with guns than an oven."

"J wasn't big on fairy tales as part of a well rounded education, huh?" Duo rolled his eyes. "Hansel and Gretel. Gingerbread house. A trail of breadcrumbs."

"I'm familiar with the story," Heero said. "But, even if you're right, and this operation was designed to attract Gundam pilots, it is more likely that the witch already has Trowa and Quatre and therefore will not be expecting us."

"Depends if they're after just them or all of us." Duo shook his head. "I don't feel like playing fly to their spider. I say we find the guys, kick ass and get out of here." He spoke into his radio again. "05, this is 02, come in 05."

He was answered by static. Whatever had taken out their communications when they had arrived was preventing internal radio contact, too. Heero doubted that Wufei would have switched his radio off, and Sally was not answering either.

"Did you hear that?" Duo placed a warning hand on Heero's arm.

Heero listened carefully, but could hear nothing. "Mice?" he said, immediately on guard.

"Or large rats," Duo replied, smiling grimly. "Looks like we're about to get some company." He stopped at the junction between two corridors. There was a slight squelching noise, rubber against metal. Whoever was expecting them had moved suddenly and not taken into account the sound of the soles of their boots against the floor.

"Good." Heero preferred to meet their enemy directly rather than waiting for the inevitable attack.

Duo pointed to the left corridor. It led further into the centre of the satellite, while the alternative would mean retreating back the way they had come. "Further into the valley of death?"

"Let's get this over with." Heero headed down the corridor, Duo behind him. At each doorway they stopped, checked the room, one covering the other, and then moved on. Nearing the end of the long corridor they heard the distinct sound of a gun cocking.

"Down!" Duo yelled. They both rolled and came up, guns at the ready. "Damnit, what the hell are they waiting for?"

The sound of solitary clapping filled the air. A man walked out in front of them, his gun still in his holster. "Why, Mr. Maxwell," he said. "We were waiting for you."

Heero and Duo glanced at each other. Duo shrugged. "Excuse me if I don't thank you."

The man laughed. "Lower your weapons, gentlemen. I assure you that you're surrounded."

Several men stepped out of the shadows, all heavily armed.

Duo snorted. "Bad guys always have to make a statement. Haven't you people heard of being subtle?"

"They're probably as familiar with the concept as you are," Heero muttered.

"Hey!" Duo said. "I can do subtle."

"Right." Heero knew that Duo was using their banter as a distraction while he sized up their enemy and worked out possible escape routes. There weren't any.

"I believe introductions are in order," the man said. "It's quite remiss of me to forget my manners." He nodded and another man stepped forward. "Nichol here will relieve you of your weapons and then we'll get better acquainted."

"Fucking traitor." Duo lowered his gun. There was no point in committing suicide. They were outnumbered.

Nichol smirked. "I'm working for the greater good," he said. "You pilots need to be taught your correct place in the scheme of things." He took their weapons, another man covering them while he searched them thoroughly.

"Quite the arsenal." His superior nodded. "You boys certainly enjoy playing with your toys." Nichol had found their knives and the spare gun Heero carried.

"I'm a playful kind of guy," Duo said, his eyes glinting dangerously. He glared at Nichol. "Except when I'm pissed."

Heero had never understood why Une had given Nichol a position within the Preventer organisation. None of the pilots had ever trusted him.

"Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Yuy." The man seemingly in charge still hadn't drawn his gun. It was foolish to rely totally on the firepower of others to keep him safe. Even without weapons, the Gundam pilots were still dangerous. "My name is McConnell. Colonel McConnell. You may call me sir."

"Like hell," Duo snorted. "I only use that to address people I respect."

"You will respect me before we're done," McConnell said. "Just remember, Maxwell, that, once this operation is underway/you/ are expendable."

"Tsk tsk," a familiar voice interrupted. Heero spun around, unable to hide his disbelief. "That kind of attitude is not the way to achieve the results you want."

An older man pushed his way through the group of armed men, another shorter man dressed similarly in a white coat, by his side.

"Don't you guys know how to stay dead?" Duo sounded angry. Past angry.

Heero glared at the two scientists. He didn't like the way the dots were connecting in this particular puzzle. "Where are Trowa and Quatre?" he demanded.

J and H exchanged a glance, then J smiled. "Nice to see you again, too, boy. Your presence is just what we need."

End of Chapter Six

TBC


End file.
